


Change My Luck

by goseaward



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 43,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When sound engineer Liam Payne signed up for a matchmaking service, he didn't expect to get matched with Harry Styles.  </p>
<p>To be fair, Harry wasn't expecting someone like Liam, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [embracedthedark](http://archiveofourown.org/users/embracedthedark) made an AMAZING fanmix for this fic — listen to it [here](http://8tracks.com/embracedthedark/change-your-luck)!
> 
> Story notes: Not all listed pairings are endgame; the endnotes contain details on which ones. This is actually an alpha/omega (not alpha/beta/omega) world, but it's hard to convey that in-universe. There's also a lot of talk about the ways people meet, select, and build relationships with romantic partners, and I want to be clear that this is meant to be particular to the personalities of the people in question—it's not a universal statement about the way those things should be done.
> 
> Personal notes: Thanks to my betas [loverave](http://archiveofourown.org/users/snitchpuff/pseuds/loverave) and [gorgeousnerd](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeousnerd), to Britpicker goingmissing, to [Eliana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nagatha_christie) for plotting help, and to [junkshopdisco](http://archiveofourown.org/users/junkshopdisco) for some specialized knowledge, which I regretfully but deliberately ignored at a few points to make the plot flow better. And to everyone who listened to me scream about writing this for about six months :). Any remaining mistakes are my own.

"Mum! There's a car outside!"

Liam jumped. He'd thought he was ready, but now that whoever it was had arrived, Liam found he wasn't. He nervously rubbed his beard, then stopped and ran his fingers through it slowly so all the hairs were lying in the same direction. He still wasn't quite sure about the matchmaking thing, but he wasn't going to ruin his chances because he couldn't keep himself tidy.

"What's it look like?" his mum yelled back. Liam hoped she hadn't been watching him mess with his hair.

"It's black," Nicola yelled from her designated position at the front window of their parents' bedroom, where she had the best view of the driveway and the best lungs to tell them all about it. "Looks posh. Oh, he's getting out—older gentleman, grey hair—sorry, Li—"

Liam's heart sank. He'd hoped—well. He'd said he preferred someone close to his age, and it was supposed to be the best matchmaking firm—he still wasn't sure how Niall had got the invitation, but he'd been happy to take it when Niall wasn't interested. He'd been picturing somebody friendly, stable, well-established so probably a bit older, maybe with a music hobby like Liam's. Someone as good for him as his mum and dad were for each other. If they said this was his best match, then that meant the others were worse.

"Oh, wait, he's a driver, he's opening the back door—holy _shit_."

A driver? Oh, crap. Exactly what kind of alpha was this? All Liam knew was that he was male, and alpha—the firm didn't do gay relationships, so only alphas for Liam—and there were privacy concerns that meant they couldn't tell him exactly who he'd be meeting. Somebody with a driver? That sounded like someone way out of Liam's league. Maybe they'd got him mixed up with somebody else. He rubbed his palms on his trousers instead of mussing his hair again.

"Nicola!" Liam's mum yelled back, with a glance at Diana, the lady from Fortnam & Chapel Matchmaking, who was sitting calmly on Liam's parents' sofa pretending not to listen. Not that Nicola would care what she did or didn't hear. "No swearing. We're on our best behaviour. Liam, are you almost ready?"

"Mum, fuck—"

"Nic!"

"It's Harry Styles, Mum! Harry Styles is _in our driveway_!"

"Why don't you answer the door when he knocks, Mrs Payne," Diana said. 

"I—yes, all right," Liam's mum said, eyes wide. She was smiling at Liam.

"Remember, Liam, no physical contact until an agreement to date has been reached." Diana sounded like she was reading from a script. Liam guessed that was the provision she had to remind people of most often: no touching until you've already agreed to date, no sex for six months unless you get engaged. He wasn't sure how they checked that, or what the penalty was for disobeying, but they were very firm about the rules. When he'd heard them, he'd almost decided not sign up: he didn't like casual sex, personally, but it had the air of all those people who spoke very seriously about how casual sex ruined omegas because chastity was important, or something, and Liam never had much patience with that point of view. Omegas should do what they wanted to, just like alphas. It wasn't like you were ruined forever if you had a bit of sex.

Oh god. But he'd have to _not have sex with _Harry Styles__ , if this all worked out. Liam was pretty sure he could resist the flirting, but his singing was another matter.

Liam dropped into his favourite chair. Nic stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly. "You're gonna be great, baby bro," she said quietly in his ear. Liam smiled up at her.

The knocker sounded, and Liam's mum popped up like she'd just sat on a hot potato. Liam sat on his hands as she opened the door.

"Hullo, are you Mrs Payne?" Harry Styles' unmistakable voice said from the front stoop.

"Yes, I am! Come in," Liam's mum said.

Harry stepped through the door, all smiles, looking almost like he did in the tabs: striped button-up shirt (though not open as far as Liam had seen it before, perhaps in a nod to Fortnam & Chapel's rather conservative nature), necklaces and rings, tight black trousers. "I'm Harry," Harry said. "It's lovely to meet you."

"You as well." They shook hands. "And this is my son Liam," she said, gesturing to where Liam was sitting.

Liam stood, nervously, and managed not to wave, which would probably look silly. "Hi," he said. "Nice to meet you."

Harry smiled at him, and it felt like it was just _for_ Liam, which make him a little weak in the knees. Harry stepped over to the chair and stuck out his hand; Liam looked to Diana, who nodded—okay, handshakes didn't count as physical contact, apparently. They shook. Harry's hands were warm and dry, with more delicate wrists than Liam was expecting. He was a little taller than Liam, but not by much, and Liam thought he might outweigh Harry, who was much thinner in person. "I, um, I like your music," Liam said. He wasn't sure he should say that, but it was too weird to pretend he didn't know who Harry was.

"Thanks!" Harry said happily. Gosh, he was good-looking.

"Perhaps we should sit down," Diana said. 

Liam nodded and sat back down—well, fell into his chair, but he hoped it didn't look _too_ graceless. Harry chose the chair nearest Liam's and actually scooted it a little closer as he sat down. He leaned forward on his elbows and looked at Diana.

"I'm sure you can see, Liam, Mrs Payne, why we couldn't tell you who the match was," Diana said. She still sounded a bit like a robot, but a friendlier one.

"I'm sorry about the secrecy," Harry said sincerely, looking at Liam's face. 

"No, it's fine, of course I understand," Liam said. He smiled tentatively at Harry and Harry smiled back at him. He had so much presence. It was a little hard to remember Diana was in the room, or his mum, or his sister, when Harry's attention was on him.

"Why don't we give you a few minutes to talk," Diana said. She stood up. "I can see in here from the kitchen, so don't try to steal a kiss or any funny business, Mr Styles." The robot was gone; Liam understood completely. "Let us know when we can come back in so Mrs Payne can give her approval as well?"

"Yes, that should be fine," Liam said.

"Sure," Harry said.

Harry leaned back in his chair, relaxed, as the others left the room, and pulled one ankle up onto his knee. "I really am sorry about all this," he said, waving one hand around. "I wanted to tell you but Paul said it wasn't a good idea."

"Sorry, who's—?" Liam said.

"Oh, right. My part-time bodyguard. It's his job to worry about my safety and stuff"

Liam tried to wrap his head around needing a bodyguard and couldn't. "Ah," he said. "It's fine, though. I would've worried myself sick if I'd known I was actually going to meet you. I mean—" He didn't want to sound like a crazed fan or something. "I just really like music, and you're really good?" Harry gave him a slow, lazy grin. It showed off his dimples, which were even more attractive in person than Liam had realised. Like the rest of him, if Liam was honest. "I haven't waited outside overnight to get tickets or anything. But I do really like your music." He felt so awkward. Hopefully Harry wouldn't think he was hopelessly nerdy or something, even though he was.

"That's okay," Harry said. "Music's just a hobby, then, for you?"

"Oh—no, I'm a sound engineer," Liam said. "I actually live in London—I don't know if they told you." 

Harry nodded. 

"I do the boards for the Egg House."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Oh, the one in Shoreditch?" he said. "I haven't been there but I've heard, like, good things." He smiled warmly again.

"Oh really? Thanks!" Liam said, grinning.

"Cool," Harry said. Liam had worried he'd messed things up with his word vomit about Harry's music, but Harry was looking interested again. He was so charming; Liam probably would have liked him anyway, but it was especially hard when he was supposed to be finding out if Harry was a suitable match and that included much more than just whether Liam liked him. "So um—can I ask you why you're doing this? It seems like you shouldn't need a matchmaking service to find an omega who'd want to date you."

"Seems like you shouldn't, either," Harry said, with a quick glance at Liam's shoulders that made him flush hot. "I guess...everyone I meet is pretty focused on work. I am, too, but. I've been thinking about, like, starting a family, having kids around. And not that many people I meet want that. Or if they do it's not, um..."

Fans. Right. "Sure," Liam said, trying to sound commiserating.

"So I thought, maybe this way I could meet someone who wanted the things that I want. You do, right?" Harry said, a little anxiously. "I don't think they'd match us together if not, but have you changed your mind or anything?"

"No," Liam said, and the smile broke over Harry's face like the sun coming up. "I mean, not right now. But soon."

"Exactly," Harry said, nodding.

Trying for teasing, Liam said, "So, do I pass the test, then?"

Harry looked at him seriously. "I don't need you to pass a test," he said. 

"Okay," Liam said. "Er. I'm not sure how this works, then. Do you want to date me?"

Harry leaned forward again. "I'd be very happy to, Liam," he said. His name sounded good in Harry's voice, Liam thought. "But you shouldn't say yes to me just yet. It might not be that fun, dating me. You know I get photographed a lot, right?"

Liam nodded.

"I'll try to keep you out of it as much as I can, but if we're out in public at all—and I don't want to keep you a secret"—Liam nodded again—"then you might get your photo taken, or have people printing nasty stories about you. And I'm around this year, but next year I'll be touring again, so I'll be gone a lot. I'm happy to bring you with me if you want to come—separate hotel rooms, of course—" He glanced in the direction of the kitchen, and Liam smiled. "But that probably won't work with your job schedule. I mean, I hope you like me." Harry raised his eyebrows. "But even if you do, it might not be worth all that."

Liam wanted to answer right away, but he knew Harry was right, that he should think about it first. "I'll talk it over with some people?" he said. "We don't have to decide today, right?"

"Right." Harry nodded. He looked relieved. "Maybe we should arrange a second meet-up—when are you back in London?"

"I've a show Tuesday night," Liam said.

"All right. Are you free Friday? I can arrange a private dinner somewhere—you can bring a chaperone if you want—and you can tell me then."

"Show on Friday, too," Liam said. "Most weekend nights, actually—that's the bad part of dating me."

"That's fine. My schedule's pretty flexible," Harry said. "Thursday?"

"Yeah, Thursday sounds good."

"Great!" Harry reached out his hand. "It's a date, then."

"So it is," Liam said. A date with Harry Styles. He'd have to bring Niall a gift in thanks.

"No touching!" Diana said from the doorway. Harry and Liam laughed at the same time. That boded well, Liam thought; that was a very good sign.

* * *

"And then he charmed my mum. I think she likes him better than me now," Liam said.

"Yeah, he's got that, like, rock star personality thing," Niall said. He took a big swig of his pint. 

"Yeah," Liam said dreamily, then caught on. "Wait, you've met him?"

"What? He was on the show a few months ago." 

"You didn't tell me! You are on notice," Liam said. Niall was still pretty junior on the assistant-radio-producer ladder, but that often meant he had to prep the guests. Usually he had good stories to tell Liam when he got home.

Niall reached across across the table and slapped Liam on the shoulder. "Well, I didn't know you'd get set up with him, did I, big guy."

"I'm not that big," Liam said. "He's taller than me, anyway."

"Skinny fucker, though."

"Hey, that's my boyfriend you're talking about."

Niall raised his eyebrows. "I thought you hadn't decided whether or not you were going to take him up on it."

"I should, though, right?" Liam said. "I haven't found anybody lately and we got along really well. It wasn't all, like, me being a stupid fan about his music."

"Did you tell him you sing?" 

Liam looked down. "No, it didn't really come up."

"You should. You could make beauuuuuutiful music together," Niall said, waggling his eyebrows.

"No sex for six months. It's in the contract."

"Could they really tell, though?"

"I'd know."

"Ah," Niall said wisely.

The conversation quieted when the chips arrived, as it always should, and Liam thought Niall had dropped the subject until he said, "When's your next heat?"

"March, of course. Same as you. Why?"

"Six months would be August," Niall said. "And then your next heat after that in October. I know how you like a romantic first-time-during-heat, but nine months seems a little long."

"Oh." Liam hadn't even thought about that. "Well, maybe. I thought you were asking because you wanted to kick me out of the flat or something, since you always leave for yours."

Niall frowned. "What? No. Anyway, Brez has his place to himself. It's a lot harder to watch the rugby when you're around."

"I like rugby," Liam said, confused.

"You're not sitting on Bressie's knot when you watch it, though, right?"

Liam almost choked on a chip. "Niall!" he said. He sounded scolding, like one of his primary school teachers always had. 

"Sorry, I forgot you were a romantic," Niall said, with a glint in his eyes that said he hadn't forgotten at all. "Would you rather talk about Harry's gorgeous green eyes?"

"Hey, that's my boyfriend you're talking about," Liam said again, and Niall laughed.

Strange to think of Harry Styles being his boyfriend. Liam was used to his life: he had a good job, he got to work with bands, he liked his flat with Niall. He was close to his family and dating was going—well, not as well as he'd wanted, which is why he'd tried the matchmaking service, but well enough. Strange to think about getting a glimpse of that other life, though, the one he'd been thinking about when he'd tried out for X Factor, the one he'd given up on.

"Darts?" he said. Niall drained his pint and stood up to join him. It wouldn't be that big a change, he thought, to be dating Harry Styles. It might mean a bigger change later, but any romantic relationship would mean that eventually. For now, he had Niall and darts and a date to look forward to on Thursday, and that was enough for Liam.

* * *

* * *

Harry got to the restaurant fifteen minutes early because he didn't want Liam to have to wait for him. He knew it probably wasn't what Liam had pictured, dating a musician with all the baggage that came with that. Even if he did work with them himself. But Liam was wonderful—warm and friendly and _so_ fit, like a younger David Beckham, and he loved music too—and Harry really wanted to make it work. So: showing up early to make sure Liam wouldn't have to wait for him, and maybe have time to change his mind.

Liam was early, too, but not as early as Harry. Harry stood up to greet him, which made Liam look surprised, but not, Harry hoped, displeased. "I'm glad you came!" Harry said as they sat down together.

"It's good to see you again," Liam said. 

"I got a bottle of red already," Harry said. "You can order something else if you want, but if you'd like some—"

"Oh, yes, please," Liam said.

Harry poured him a glass and passed it back across the table. "How have you been?" He smiled. He hadn't realised till he saw Liam again just how much he liked him, just how much he hoped Liam would say yes.

"Great," Liam said. "We had some good shows and my flatmate Niall did an open mic night the other night."

"Musicians all round, then," Harry said, and Liam nodded emphatically. "Niall's a singer, then?"

Liam swallowed his mouthful of wine, nodding again. "And plays the guitar. He's brilliant."

"I missed that stage of my career, a bit," Harry said. "I mean, it's worth it to get to play to so many people, but I don't have struggling artist stories or anything."

"Oh, no—the music is just a hobby," Liam said. "He works for Radio 1, he's a producer. The open mics are just for fun."

Harry nodded, then sat up straighter. "Wait, the little Irish one on Annie's show?"

Liam grinned. "That's him! Don't let him hear you call him little, though."

"Noted."

"He's on the air right now, actually," Liam continued.

"Ah. And you threw him over for me," Harry said.

Liam looked puzzled for a minute, like he wasn't sure if Harry was joking or not. Harry just smiled, though, and after a moment Liam smiled back. "I don't always listen," he said. "I'm usually working when he's on. It's just not that convenient."

"You don't have to listen every day to be supportive, I think," Harry said. "My friend Grimmy's on at 6:30 in the morning. I never catch the beginning, honestly. But I'll listen later on iPlayer if he had a big interview or sommat."

Liam nodded. "And Niall tells me anything big that happened anyway."

"Right! Exactly."

"Though he didn't tell me he'd met you," Liam added with an expression that Harry thought would have been a wink on someone less cautious.

The date felt good; Harry thought it was feeling good. "So. You have a lot of shows at your venue, then?"

"Yep," Liam said. "Usually a couple during the week and then Friday and Saturday—oh um," he said, looking a bit bashful, "so I often can't do weekend dates, by the way."

Harry didn't miss the implication there, that Liam was thinking of agreeing to date him, and he was finding he wanted it more than he would have expected. Signing up for matchmaking had honestly been a bit of a lark—a bit old-fashioned, and a strange upper-class indulgence for alphas once you got to one as selective as Fortnam and Chapel, of the kind he usually tried to avoid—and he'd thought he'd get a few dates out of it and nothing else, but Liam was proving far more interesting than that. "You mentioned that," he said. "It's not a problem. No nine-to-five job for me, I can do what I want."

"Great," Liam said, nodding enthusiastically.

Harry pushed his hair back. "And was there, er, anything else you wanted to ask me? Before you made a decision?" 

Liam's eyes got just a fraction bigger, but Harry didn't push him, just sat there, posture as open and welcoming as he could make it. "I don't think so," Liam said. "I mean—I'm sure I'll have other things to ask you and stuff, if we keep seeing each other?"

"Yeah, of course. I didn't mean that was the last question you could ever ask me." Harry added a grin to soften the words.

"Okay," Liam said. "So, um. Yeah. Yes. I'd love to. Like, date you." His eyes crinkled all up when he smiled, and Harry felt a wash of affection at how cute he was.

"Great!" Harry leaned across and slid his fingers through Liam's, giving his hand a squeeze. "That's really great, Liam. Thank you."

Liam's cheeks were a bit red. "Don't need to thank me," he said. "I'm not doing you a favour, right, mate?"

"Right," Harry said. "Awesome!"

Liam laughed and squeezed Harry's hand back before he drew it back to look at his menu again. Harry guessed this was a first date, then, rather than a drawn-out interview. He was glad Liam had made his decision so soon. He'd pictured a number of ways this could have gone—daydreaming about them, really, everything from Liam not showing up to Liam grilling him for hours, though that hadn't seemed much like his character from their first meeting—and Liam being interested in him, and making that known so soon, was about the best way Harry thought this could have gone.

Once the waiter had taken their order, Harry leaned forward, though he didn't try for Liam's hand again. "How long have you lived in London?" he said.

"Moved up here for uni," he said, "so six years, now."

"All by yourself?"

Liam nodded. "But it was for uni, so it wasn't that scary. And I met Niall right away—we were on the same course. How about you?"

Harry tapped his chin. "I came down for X Factor, and then we had the tour. But once that was done I lived with my mate Louis for the first year, until I could get a place of my own." He smiled. "And even now I kind of...move around. Like I lived with my mate Ben and his wife for a while while I was getting some renovations done. It's nice having other people around."

"You own your place?" Liam said, looking surprised.

Harry hadn't really thought Liam was interested in him because he was famous, but it was reassuring that he apparently hadn't checked up on Harry's finances or anything. Or he could be faking it, but when Harry thought back to the way he'd looked so surprised when Harry walked in the door in Wolverhampton, he didn't think that was likely. And Liam just didn't feel wrong; at this point in Harry's life, he was pretty good at noticing when somebody wanted to use him. "It's just a flat," he said. "In a building over in Primrose Hill."

"Nice," Liam said, nodding. "I come over and run through Primrose Hill, like the actual hill, sometimes."

"Oh, you run?" Harry said.

"Yeah, do you?"

"I'm more, like, boxing," Harry said. "And yoga. I run sometimes, but mostly at the gym."

Liam leaned forward, looking interested. "I boxed when I was in school."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said. He grinned, going for flirty. "Were you any good?"

Liam wavered between proud and humble, which was adorable to watch. "I guess so," he said. "I haven't kept it up, really. More running and weightlifting these days."

"You look good," Harry said, to watch the faint blush pour down his cheeks.

"Thanks."

"Primrose Hill, then? Where else?"

Liam rattled off a few other parks. "I like the ones with families in them," he said. Then he seemed to catch himself. "Not like—I want a family but not quite yet, you know? But it's like, without my family here and working in the industry and stuff, it's all adults. So it's nice to be where there are kids around."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Harry said. Hopefully not as wistfully as he meant it. He knew all the reasons why a kid was a bad idea now, and he believed them, but he couldn't help wanting it. He was already older than his mum had been when she had Gemma. "Does your sister have kids?"

"No, neither of them do." Harry must have looked confused, because he added, "I've got another one, Ruth. She wasn't home when you came by—that was Nicola."

"Both older?"

"Yeah." Liam sat back as the waiter brought by the salad course. "Do you have siblings?"

Harry nodded. "One older sister. Gemma."

"Sisters are great," Liam said solemnly, before taking a bite of his salad. He frowned and Harry was worried for a moment, but by the time he'd finished chewing Liam was back to that eye-squinting grin that Harry was rapidly becoming very fond of. "This is great! How'd you find this place?" Liam said. 

"I've a friend who lives nearby," Harry said. "Zayn. He showed me."

"Nice," Liam said. He took another bite and looked thoughtful again. Harry waited it out till he'd finished chewing. "Like—not Zayn Malik?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah!"

"Awesome! His voice is sick," Liam said.

"Yeah, he's really good," Harry agreed.

"That thing he did on the Brits last year—"

"Should I be feeling jealous here?" Harry said teasingly. 

"Oh, no!" Liam said, leaning forward earnestly. He was so adorable, Harry wasn't sure how he hadn't been scooped up the minute he went through his first heat. Or whenever he started growing that beard. "I like all sorts of music." 

"Yeah. Me too." Harry pointed at him with his fork. "What was your favourite album last year?"

The music talk took them most of the way through supper. Which was fine with Harry: he mostly dated casually and the more serious exceptions hadn't ended all that well for him, so he was happy to ease into things and not discuss yet the reason they'd both, presumably, gone to a matchmaker: to find somebody permanent. 

"How are you getting home?" Harry asked, after he'd brushed off Liam's attempts to split the bill.

"Tube," Liam said. "It's not too far."

"I can drive you home, if you want," Harry said.

Liam's eyes opened wide, big and earnest. "That's out of your way, though. I don't mind the Tube."

"It's not a problem," Harry said. "Don't worry, I'll stay on my side of the car. No funny business."

And he kept his promise, no matter how distracting Liam was. But he did get out to walk Liam to his door.

"I had a really good time," he said when Liam stopped a bit awkwardly in front of his door.

"Yeah, me too," Liam said. "Um—we can text? About doing it again?"

"Yeah," Harry said. He reached out to straighten Liam's collar—hard to do his traditional tuck the hair behind the ear when his date didn't have hair long enough—and Liam licked his lower lip and didn't move away. So. "I'd love to," Harry said, and swayed forward, giving Liam enough time to move if he wanted to.

He didn't.

Harry slid his hand around the back of Liam's neck and kissed him, slow and easy. This close Harry could smell him faintly, aftershave and hair product, not a lot of skin—omegas had subtle scents except around their heats, and Harry supposed it wasn't on for a first date to bury his nose at the base of Liam's neck and smell where his pulse pounded close to the surface. Liam was a good kisser, though, so Harry didn't feel like he was missing out, even when he cut it off short in the name of propriety; he still couldn't get a read on whether Liam wanted to move slow because of the matchmaking service's rules or just because it was what he liked, but Harry didn't want to push him.

"Night," Harry said, smiling.

"Night," Liam said.

Harry went back down to his car, but he didn't drive off until he'd seen Liam go safely inside.

* * *

"I had a really great time," Harry said.

"Yeah?" Louis said. "Perfect little omega? Maybe I should get in on this."

"Don't be crude," Harry said, and Louis cackled. "He's nice. And not the kind of person I thought they'd set me up with, you know? Like, I wanna eat him he's so cute and earnest, but he's got a career. I was expecting somebody who wanted to be supported."

"So why'd you try it?" Louis had his stocking feet up on the side table, resting on some of Harry's scrawled lyrics, with a plate of well-vinegared chips resting on his stomach. Couldn't housebreak the man, no matter how long they'd been working together.

"Thought it was worth a go. One out of ten Brits under the age of 30 has used a matchmaking service, you know." Louis gave him a look—fair enough, that was direct from the marketing material. "Anyway, if I want a family I probably need someone who can handle the home stuff. At least if I want to do it soon."

"The music world is fickle. You might get dropped by the public tomorrow."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"What's this career, then?"

"Sound engineer. He works for the Egg House."

Louis stopped chewing in favour of raising his eyebrows at Harry.

"Yeah, we can talk music. It's nice."

"As though I'm not enough for you. After all I've done!"

"Love you best, Lou," Harry said.

"You better." Louis tossed a chip at Harry; it smacked him in the forehead. Well, that was love from Louis. Harry picked it up off his lap and ate it.

"And he's, you know?" Louis said.

Harry frowned at him. "What?"

"You want to—" Louis made a lewd gesture.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "The firm's got rules, though. Not for six months or an engagement."

"Horseshit." Louis chomped on a chip in punctuation. "This is what you get for choosing a middle-class place like that."

"It's liability or something. Six months or an engagement and they decide you've taken matters into your own hands or something."

"I know someone who's going to be taking matters into his own hands, that's for sure."

Harry may have already taken some personal time to think about Liam's full lower lip, but he wasn't about to admit it to Louis. "Anyway, I like him. I'm glad it's mutual."

"As if you had any doubt," Louis scoffed. "Just look at your face."

"Hey," Harry said. "My chest probably had something to do with it. I work hard on this, you know."

Louis threw another chip at him. Harry caught it in his mouth and Louis cheered. "I'm sure he's far too good for you," Louis said.

"Oh, definitely," Harry said. "Don't tell him, though."

"My lips are sealed."

"Your lips are never sealed."

Louis sighed theatrically. "Fine," he said. "My lips are open but I'll make sure to talk about other stuff."

"Aw, thanks, Louis," Harry said. "Can I have another chip?"

Louis covered the plate with his hand. "No. Now go away."

"This is my flat," Harry said.

"Fine, you can stay."

"Thanks," Harry said, as genuinely as he could, just to annoy Louis. Louis just ignored him, though. Harry found the Man U match on the telly, which got a better reaction, if not one that was safer for Harry's person.

* * *

* * *

Liam never heard his boss coming—he had some kind of magic shoes, Liam had decided. So when Paddy said, "How was the trip home?" over the top of Liam's workspace, Liam almost banged his head on the edge of the table.

"Oh, wonderful," Liam said, standing up so he wasn't in further danger. He hadn't told anybody at work why he was going home. "Nice dinner with my parents and my sisters and stuff."

"Good," Paddy said, and wandered off as abruptly as he'd shown up. That's how it usually went with him: drop in, say something, disappear. Liam hadn't seen him since before he'd gone home, he thought, so it was nice that he remembered. Not bad for a boss. 

It was a little strange to be back at work after his date with Harry, even though he'd been in the day before testing amps too. Like going back to work concessions after you'd got off with the festival headliner or something. He'd have to get used to it, he guessed, since it would be happening a lot.

It might be weird to have him working here if he got serious with Harry, though. That wasn't something he'd thought of before. Just a junior sound engineer at a little club in London. Hardly seemed worthy of Harry. But he wouldn't be moving up on his own merits very fast, so if he got a more impressive job it would probably be due to Harry's connections, and that didn't feel right at all. Exploitative.

Early to be thinking that, though. Even though he liked Harry quite a bit, beyond the pop star stuff. He was charming and he made funny jokes, even if Liam didn't understand all of them. And he genuinely cared about his family, that was obvious, and he'd been nice when people had come up to ask for autographs. Harry seemed to like him, too. Liam didn't expect that to be a trick any more, the way he had when he was younger and some of the boys had pinched and prodded him between classes—no punching like they did to Andy, doing that to an omega would've got them in real trouble, but enough to hurt—but he still found it a little surprising when people seemed to like him instead of just ignoring him. Niall had been a good cure for that, really. Niall liked everybody, and while Liam knew Niall wasn't quite as easygoing as he seemed, he was still so open that Liam couldn't doubt it when Niall seemed to genuinely enjoy his company. 

So maybe it actually would work with Harry. Who knew? Liam lost a little time wiring up the sound board and remembering that kiss. Good kiss. Really nice kiss. Really knew what he was doing, Harry Styles, and that buzz of physical attraction... Liam thought that was probably the matchmaking service—they'd done something medical to figure out his hormones and pheromone levels and such, so they probably checked for physical compatibility, too. Liam had never experienced anything like it, not even with Sophia, and she'd been his longest relationship. He felt a little happier today, even, and he didn't know if that was alpha-pheromone hangover or just good-date-hangover. Nice, either way.

And he'd be seeing Harry again the next day, they'd arranged it over text that morning. He always wanted to go in fast like that and always felt like it was too much, but Harry seemed to be doing the same, so that was okay. Compatibility. It was nice.

"What's got you smiling, Payne?" Suzie from the front office said, walking by with a handful of flash drives.

"Excited for the show," he said, instead of anything true, because he wasn't quite ready to tell anyone. He didn't like to remind people he was an omega if he could help it—a couple of the other staffers leered a bit. Nothing he wasn't used to, but he tried to keep his dating life out of it until things were serious enough to put the alphas off. Looked like that might be sooner rather than later, this time around.

* * *

Harry's flat was in a tall, modern-looking building with lots of glass. Liam gave his name nervously to the doorman, who smiled and waved him over to a set of lifts flanked by tall vases with what looked like real plants in them. Frankly, Liam was glad he'd been busy enough at work he hadn't been over to Harry's building yet: it was so posh he wasn't sure if he would have been scared off by it.

At least he didn't live in the penthouse, so Liam didn't feel terribly overwhelmed. He texted Harry on the way up. Harry opened the door as Liam approached, and looked startled when he saw Liam about to knock. "Sorry," he said, "I just got your text."

"It's fine, I didn't even knock yet," Liam said.

Harry had a big smile on his face, and it was weird to think he'd made Harry smile like that. It got less weird, though, when Harry stepped forward and slid a hand around the back of Liam's neck and briefly kissed him hello. Liam put his hands on Harry's waist and Harry kissed Liam again, a flash of tongue and a finishing peck before he stood back. "Come in," he said. "Oh, you didn't have to bring anything."

"I like brownies," Liam said awkwardly. He'd made them from a boxed mix, it wasn't any trouble really.

Harry hesitated. "I think I know the answer to this," he said, "but just to be sure, these are regular brownies, right?"

"They're not low-fat or anything," Liam said. Harry ordered fairly health-conscious meals, Liam had noticed.

Harry grinned at him and Liam wasn't sure why until he said, "So definitely not pot brownies, then?"

"What? No!"

"I didn't think so," Harry said, holding his hands up placatingly and laughing. 

Liam couldn't help but smile when Harry was laughing so easily. "Okay," he said. "Um, are there going to be other, um...?"

"No," Harry said. "Uh—some of my friends definitely, you know. But not at a gathering like this. And not me. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Liam held up the brownies. "Should I put these somewhere?"

"Yeah, the kitchen's through here." Harry held his hand out to the side and Liam could see the kitchen through a—was it a doorway if there wasn't a door in it? "Do you want a tour?"

"Yes, please!" 

The kitchen was grey and white: steel appliances, white cabinets, grey and white tile floor. There was an island in the centre of the room with a bowl of crisps on it already, so Liam unwrapped the tray of brownies and added it. Harry beamed at him. "This is the kitchen," he said.

"Er, yes," Liam said. "It's nice. Big. We don't have this much room in my flat."

Harry nodded. "Do you cook a lot?"

"Mostly my flatmate," Liam said. "Loves a barbecue, actually. Our downstairs neighbours let us use their grill if we cook for them, so we've been doing that a lot lately. You could come by sometime if you wanted."

"Yeah, that would be wonderful," Harry said.

"Great!" Liam waited for a moment and when Harry didn't say anything else, he said, "And that's the dining room, or—"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said quickly. He took Liam's hand, which sent another little thrill through Liam. He really wasn't sure he'd ever been this physically compatible with an alpha before. "I don't eat in here very much, actually, usually I just use the kitchen island or the main room if I've friends over. Not very interesting, really."

"I like it," Liam said loyally. Fairly boring, just a huge pale wood table with chairs and one big print on the wall.

"Anyway, the living room's more fun." Harry led him back to the first room he'd walked into. It was the main living space, as Liam had thought. Modern like the rest of the building, mostly grey and white like the kitchen. Big comfy-looking sofas and couple of intimidating armchairs. One corner held an upright piano—looked like an electric one, actually, but high-quality—and a few guitars and amps.

"It's very welcoming," Liam said. Except for the armchairs. He didn't really know how to take it all in, but he did like it. "Did you decorate it?"

"I worked with the designer," Harry said.

"Cool. And the art is, um?"

"Stuff I like." Harry grinned at him; those dimples were devastating. "Nick introduced me to some gallery owners when I was first in London."

Nick Grimshaw, Liam thought. He'd listened to Nick sometimes back when he did evenings, but with his work schedule the morning show didn't really work for him. "Is he going to be here today?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I asked him to come by first. He's used to talking to new people."

"Cool." Liam looked around the room again; it looked more personal now that he knew Harry had picked out the art, and it wasn't just some designer's hand. "Are they all the same artist?"

"Uh—those two pieces are the same." Harry pointed to two black-and-white paintings. Some of the art was colourful, the only colour in the room really, but Liam liked the black-and-white ones too. "The rest are all different though. Um, I think. I switch them out sometimes."

"I do that with my posters too!" Liam said. "They're not as nice as these, though." 

"If they mean something to you, I think that's what's important."

Liam nodded; that was a good point. "Thanks. Uh, and back there is—?" he said, nodding at the hallway at the back. Anything to get him out of the conversation, really.

Harry pulled on Liam's hand and Liam followed him back through the furniture. 

"How long have you lived here?" Liam said as they walked.

"About a year after X Factor," Harry said. "Here—there's the bathroom," he gestured just around the corner in the hallway, "and the guest bedroom's over here."

There was one platinum record plaque on the hallway wall, for Where Do Broken Hearts Go. "Nice," Liam said, and Harry's smile got marginally bigger. "Is this your only one, or—?" He didn't think so, but he didn't know where the others were.

"Nope," Harry said. "My mum's got most of them back in Cheshire. This is the first one I helped write, though."

"Oh, cool!"

"Thanks." Harry flipped on the lights in the guest bedroom so Liam could see its riot of different shades of blue, so different from the neutrals of the rest of the place. "And then the master bedroom's back this way. Um, I don't know if you want to see that."

Liam thought about Harry kissing him, and six months. "Best not," he said regretfully.

Harry chuckled a little at his tone. "Some other time then."

He settled them with drinks on one of the sofas and Liam talked about the shows he'd worked this week—Harry listening attentively and asking good questions—until the door opened and somebody walked through that Liam recognised, after a moment, as Nick Grimshaw. "Good afternoon," he said cheerfully. He held up a carrier bag. "Brought reinforcements."

"Throw 'em in the kitchen and then you can meet Liam," Harry said. 

Liam gave Nick a little wave.

"Hello, Liam who I haven't met yet," Nick said as he walked into the kitchen. Liam shared a grin with Harry. Nick reappeared after a moment and walked over to perch on the arm of the sofa near Liam. "I'm Grimmy."

As Liam shook his hand, Harry said, "Nick Grimshaw. And this is Liam." Nick had a nice handshake, firm and dry. 

"Hi, Grimmy," Liam said.

"Liam what?"

"Liam Payne," Liam said.

Nick nodded. "Liam Payne," he said, tasting it. "Very firm name, that. Too bad you can't introduce yourself like James Bond. 'I'm Payne' has a nice ring to it."

"Sounds a bit mean," Liam said.

"I'm going to make salsa," Harry announced abruptly. "You two get to know each other." He raised his eyebrows at Nick, then turned the look to Liam. Liam smiled again; he loved Harry's strain of goofiness.

"I used to listen to your show," Liam said to Nick. "I work nights so not so much lately, though."

Nick grinned. "Oh, thanks!" He leaned back against the sofa, throwing one arm along the back. Not possessively, Liam didn't think. Liam normally felt a little claustrophobic when alphas did that, but something about Nick—oh, right. Nick was an alpha who liked alphas. Not a thing Liam had run into very much, though there were more alphas like that in London than in Wolverhampton. Or more of them open about it. "I envy you. I have to go to bed at ten pm like a nan."

"My mum forgets and tries to call me in the morning like she does for my sisters," Liam said. 

"All my friends forget and text me at 2 am from the pub." He held his hand up for a fist bump and Liam gave him one a bit awkwardly.

"Oh, and you used to work with Matt Fincham, right?" Liam said.

Nick blinked at him. "Yes? Are you a particular Finchy fan?"

"No, but I've met him," Liam said. Then at Nick's wide eyes, he added, "Niall Horan?"

"Aw! Little Niall who works on Annie's show?" 

"Yeah, that's him!" 

"Of course you've met Finchy! Oh, you must have all the dirt," Nick said admiringly. "Go on, tell me something I can use to make fun of Niall."

Liam fake frowned. "That doesn't seem very nice."

"Well, I won't be mean about it." Nick tucked his hands under his chin coquettishly and turned his head. "I'm harmless! I just want something to tease him about."

"No, sorry," Liam said. "I like you, but I live with him."

Nick laughed. He had a good laugh, and Liam really did feel comfortable with him—Harry had been right to have him come over first, Liam thought. "That's a good point, Liam Payne. Surrounded by music people, aren't you?"

"And I'm a sound engineer at the Egg House," Liam said.

The body language change was small but noticeable: a kind of focused interest where before he'd just been playing up to make Liam like him, Liam thought. "Oh yeah? I saw Alternate Scar there last week."

"Yeah, that was me!" Liam said. "I mean. Um. I ran the soundboards. I'm not in the group, obviously."

"It'll be nice having someone around from the business side," Nick said decisively. "It's usually me and a bunch of wacky creatives."

"Good wacky creatives though," Liam said, looking at the kitchen.

"Yeah." Nick clapped Liam on the shoulder. "A'right, 'Arry, you can come back in!" he yelled at the kitchen. "We've found common ground. We both think you're insane."

"Heyyyy," Harry said slowly. He appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, long long legs and broad shoulders—Liam had really got lucky with him. "Don't listen to him, Liam. He's crazier than me."

"Noted," Liam said.

* * *

Harry hadn't invited too many people—about ten by the time everyone had arrived: Zayn Malik, who made Liam go a bit quiet and impressed; Jeff and Glenne, an American couple, and a mutual friend Xander who was also in town; Louis, a short guy with hair like a brown dandelion; Alexa Chung, who was gorgeous in person; and Aimee and Ian, Nick's friends and also Niall's since Ian worked at Radio 1. Liam didn't have trouble with the names, at least—he liked people—but it was a large group who all knew each other and that made it hard to figure out exactly where he fit in. Especially since he'd heard of some of these people before as people on the telly or in the papers. Liam couldn't quite square the fact that they were real people and he was getting to meet them—it was almost like a fairy story. Nick kept trying to draw him into conversation, though, and that helped. Harry did too, when he was in the room. 

With some pride, Liam noted that his tray of brownies had made their way into the room and were more than half gone before Aimee stole the remote control from Alexa and put on the film. 

Harry finally stopped getting everyone drinks and snacks and sat down next to Liam, a solid warm presence with his arm across the back of the sofa again. Harry's friends hadn't been doing that weird alpha territorial stuff that Liam didn't like—well, Louis kept needling him but it didn't seem to have anything to do with Liam being an omega—but it was nice to have Harry around him, too, making Liam feel a little quiet and warm and letting the conversation pass him by while he figured out who everyone was and what they were like. 

By the time the film had ended and about half the party had left, Liam was comfortable enough to get into a conversation with Zayn about comic books—Liam had spotted him sketching during the film, and asked about it, and it was a bit downhill from there. Then Louis walked back into the room with a DVD in one hand and a bottle of vodka topped with an inverted stack of shot glasses in the other. "Liam," he announced, making Liam feel like a schoolboy who'd been caught out doing something wrong even though he couldn't think what, "have you seen Harry's run on X Factor?"

Harry jumped up and tried wrestling the DVD out of Louis's hand, but Louis danced away from him and shoved the vodka into his hands instead. Harry sighed and dropped back down next to Liam before lining the shot glasses up on the table and tipping vodka into each of them.

"I didn't really watch your season of X Factor, sorry, no," Liam said, fascinated by Harry's hands.

"That's okay," Harry said. "I had terrible hair, anyway."

Liam laughed. 

Louis made a dismissive noise. "He had gigantic curls, the heartbreaker." Louis put his hand to his chest in mock sentimentality. "It's brilliant, you'll love it. Also he gets naked a lot, but they censored that, so I guess you'll have to wait your six months."

"You watched, then?" Liam said, trying to distract himself from the fact that apparently Louis knew about the rules and was going to tease him about it. He didn't know why Louis seemed to have it out for him. Liam liked him, like he liked all of Harry's friends.

To Liam's confusion, everybody laughed. "I was a contestant too," Louis said with a smirk, and Liam abruptly felt hot and ashamed. 

"Oh, sorry. I really didn't watch," Liam said.

"Yes, you said 'your season.'" Louis leaned forward, looking like he was going in for the kill. "Did you watch other ones? Something about Harold here offended you?"

"My name isn't Harold," Harry said.

Liam patted him on the knee to say he'd heard. "I, uh. I tried out a couple of seasons before and they told me to come back when I was older, but that was the year I decided I wasn't going to go back. It just hurt too much to watch."

Harry had turned to face him fully on. Liam couldn't look at anybody else in the room when Harry was looking at him like that. "Why didn't you go back?" he said, sounding hurt.

"I didn't think I'd do very well. And I was about to start my sound engineering course so I thought, I'll do that and maybe I'll try once I'm qualified so I have a fall-back, but I got a job right away and just...didn't."

"Oh, Liam," Harry said, his eyebrows knitting together. Alexa echoed him.

"So you can sing, then?" Louis said, loudly, over the rest of them.

"Er," Liam said.

Zayn looked over at him. "Louis can play piano for you, if you want to give us a show. You don't have to, though."

"Yes he does," Louis said decisively. He dropped the DVD on the ottoman and walked over to the piano. Liam watched Harry grab the disc and slide it behind a sofa cushion, and then turned his eyes to Louis, settling on the piano bench and raising an eyebrow at Liam. "I can't actually play very much," he said, "but we could do the Beatles or anything that has a standard rock progression."

"You really don't have to," Alexa said.

"I'd like to hear you sing, though," Harry said, turning those eyes on Liam, a little wide and begging, and how could he say no to that?

"Okay," Liam said. He stood up and walked over to the piano, because if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. "How about Cry Me a River? Can you do that?" That was his go-to piece.

"Good choice," Harry said warmly. He'd twisted all around on the sofa so he was facing Liam, and Zayn and Alexa's eyes were on Liam too. 

_It's just like karaoke_ , Liam thought to himself as Louis started playing, and once he opened his mouth it was like any other time he performed: he had energy, suddenly, and it was easy to make it good, playing up to Louis's marginally competent piano playing and throwing in a few runs for fun. It helped that everyone responded well, with surprised looks and big smiles and even some clapping along right at the end that transitioned into applause when he was done.

He managed to put them off making him perform any more, but as soon as the last guest had been shooed out, Harry practically mauled him with a snog. "That was _so hot_ ," Harry said between kisses. "Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"

"It's just a hobby," Liam said, small and quiet.

"Are you sure you won't let me blow you?" Harry said, nipping the skin of Liam's throat with his teeth.

"Uh. No," he said regretfully. "Rules."

"Are we sure they include oral?"

"No, but if I let you blow me now, I don't think I'd wanna stop," Liam said honestly.

Harry pulled up and gave him an absolutely feline grin. "As compliments go, I'll take it," he said.

* * *

* * *

"It's great," Louis said, taking off his headphones. "You'll make all the omegas cry."

Harry pouted. "I don't want to make them cry. Sad people make me sad."

"They'll get wet one way or another."

"Louis!"

Louis rolled his eyes. "Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities, young Harold." 

Harry snorted. "But you like the song."

"Yeah, of course I do." Louis frowned at him. 

"Okay. Great." Harry kicked his feet up onto the edge of the desk and Louis pushed them right back off. "I've got a favour to ask you."

"Right. I'll take season tickets to the Rovers in trade."

"You've already got season tickets."

"A fair point, well made," Louis said. "I'll think of something else."

"Don't you want to know what the favour is first?" 

Louis waved his hand in the air. "How am I going to know if it's worth if it we don't establish a price ahead of time?"

"You could wait to hear what it is and then set a price," Harry said reasonably.

Louis huffed. "That will never work. You drive a hard bargain."

"I do whatever you want," Harry said.

"Which makes it all the more frightening that you're asking me for a favour now. You should be terrified of me."

Sometimes it was best to just ignore him, Harry had found. "I think we should help Liam write some songs," he said.

"I'm a little worried about that 'we'."

"The songs need to be great."

"And they need to be his," Louis said. "I hardly know him."

"You can write, though. If we all collaborate, I think it will be stronger than if it was just the two of us," Harry said.

Louis fixed him with a look. "You want me to be the bad guy, don't you."

"No," Harry said. "I mean, that's part of it—"

"Big favour," Louis said. "Huge. Dinosaur egg kind of favour."

"I don't think I can get you a dinosaur egg," Harry said.

"I guess I won't be writing songs for your boyfriend, then," Louis said.

"Please?"

"Ugh." Louis went boneless in the chair. "Fine."

"Thanks, Louis," Harry said, patting a nearby ankle in lieu of cuddling him, which was hard to do on office chairs.

"This wasn't what I had in mind when I signed up for X Factor."

"Sure it was," Harry said.

"Yeah. It was." Louis raised his head up. "I guess we should make your boy's dreams come true or something, huh. Pay it forward."

"If you want to think about it that way," Harry said.

"I do."

"Cool. I'll set up a meeting time, then. Thanks." 

"Not before noon!" Louis yelled at Harry's retreating back. Harry waved a hand to let him know he'd heard.

* * *

As they started across the Millennium Bridge, Harry said, "I haven't been on this half of the bridge in a long time."

Liam frowned at him. "This half?"

Harry pointed at the other end. "I go to the Tate sometimes," he said, "and sometimes I walk to the middle of the bridge to take photos. But I don't usually come over here."

"Hmmm," Liam said. He squeezed his fingers around Harry's, and Harry squeezed back. "Does it look different?"

Harry looked around, at the handrail, the surface under their feet. "Not really."

"Totally worthless then," Liam said with a smile. "We should give it all up and go home." 

"Whenever you want." Harry had liked the idea of an adventure date—St. Paul's, across the Millennium Bridge, down to the London Eye, all the touristy things Liam had said he didn't have time for—but he hadn't been sure Liam would enjoy it.

"No, I'm just joshing." Liam bumped his shoulder into Harry's. "I like it."

Harry felt warm. "Good."

After a few moments of silence, walking in the breeze across the bridge, Liam said, "It's weird to see all this as a proper Londoner, instead of a kid on hols with the folks."

That gave Harry a nice image of taking his kids on holidays with Liam. He thought Liam would be great at guiding them around, and Harry liked to play the tour guide; they'd make a good team. "Does it look different?"

Liam considered. "A bit," he said. "Now it's kind of familiar. Not really familiar, because I'm not down here much, but I know the skyline buildings better and stuff."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Old friends."

"Right." Liam smiled at him. 

"Think you'll want to live here forever?" Harry said.

Liam cocked his head to the side, then shook it. "I like it," he says, "and it's good for work. I'm happy to live here. But I want to be somewhere quieter eventually. You?"

Harry nodded. "Same," he said. "I love it here, but I don't know how you raise a family here—I mean, people do it, obviously, but I can't figure out how."

"Sure," Liam said, as they turned off the bridge onto the path by the river.

"I had something I wanted to talk to you about," Harry said. He felt Liam tense beside him. "Oh it's not, um, anything bad, I don't think," he added. Liam relaxed a bit, but not much. "Have you thought about trying to make a go as a performer? Or—I mean I know you have because you tried out for X Factor. But lately?"

Liam nodded and looked out over the Thames—embarrassed, Harry thought. "I always think about it," he said, and Harry knocked their shoulders together. "I sing with Niall sometimes at open mic nights."

Harry nodded. "You ever going to invite me to one of those, by the way?"

"Maybe," Liam said with a little smile.

Harry tried not to be hurt by that. Liam should have things of his own, of course, but he didn't know why Liam was so hesitant about his music when he was so good. "So—um. Have you thought about writing your own songs?"

"No, just covers," Liam said decisively. "I've tried, but, like, I'm not very good at lyrics. It just sounds cheesy."

Harry nodded and let them walk a bit longer in silence before he said, "That was an offer, by the way."

Liam frowned at him. "What?"

"If you want to write some songs, I'll help."

Liam's eyes opened wide; he didn't look as thrilled as Harry had expected, though he did look happy and most of all surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. I asked Louis, he agreed to help too—I mean, if you want our help," Harry said. "And this isn't, like. I don't expect anything in return. It's something we want to do for you because we think you're really good, and we would think that even if you and I weren't dating." 

"Wow," Liam said. He'd stopped entirely and Harry turned them so they were facing out across the river, out of the way of the other tourists. "Wow. Yeah. Yeah? That would be amazing, Harry."

"Awesome!" Harry said. "I'll text Louis and set something up."

Liam grinned at him, bashful, and swayed forward like he was going to kiss Harry, but then he seemed to notice where they were and leaned back. And then changed his mind again and pressed up into Harry's space, kissing him soft and sweet—not anything too inappropriate for the kids walking by. "Thank you," he said. "Really. I can't wait."

* * *

"He's so hot, Nick, you have no idea," Harry said.

"Well, I've met him," Nick said.

"Yeah, but he's not an alpha. You can't really get it."

"It's a very nice package," Nick conceded. "Smells all wrong for me, but I can appreciate him, aesthetically, from a distance."

"And he's so nice." Harry finished kicking off his jeans and flopped back onto the bed, putting his mobile on speaker. Good thing it wasn't FaceTime or he'd not be able to get naked. Well, with Nick, he probably would anyway. "Just the sweetest guy."

"You do tend to attract arseholes," Nick said, sounding amused. No doubt who he was talking about; Harry had given up Nick and Louis ever getting along, but they'd agreed to mutually ignore each other as much as possible, so that worked for Harry.

"I dunno, it's just like...he doesn't want anything from me."

Something crashed in the background and Nick said something muffled that involved the word "Pig." A moment later, he said, "Sorry. Do most people want something from you?" 

"Not you," Harry said. "But like. Lots of people, I'm not a person to them. I'm a person to Liam."

"Guess the matchmakers did their job well, then," Nick said.

"Yeah. Better than I thought."

"Why'd you do it then?"

Harry shrugged automatically, even though Nick couldn't see him. "It didn't sound like the worst idea," Harry said. "I mean, I wasn't doing such a great job finding people for myself."

"So maybe it's not time for you to be in a relationship now."

Harry sighed. "I want to, though," he said. "I know you don't but I really want that. Like, stability. Thinking about a family and stuff."

"You're so young though," Nick said. "Not falling apart like me."

Harry cracked his back. "Could you hear that?"

"Disgusting."

"Plus the sex is better when you've done it a bunch of times," Harry said. "Have you had any relationships long enough to know that?"

"Yes," Nick said, sounding offended, but he didn't elaborate. "Is he sleeping with you yet, then?"

"Rules."

"Right," Nick said. "This just all seems really, like, sudden. Just making sure you're not covering up a huge scandal with good PR or something."

"You'd know if I was," Harry said.

"Very touching, thank you."

"I just wanted somebody," Harry said. "Somebody where it wouldn't be so hard, like it was with Taylor, you know?"

"I think that's sensible." Something crashed again. "One sec." 

Harry idly rubbed his stomach whilst he waited for Nick to come back.

"Kay," Nick said after a moment. "Put her out in the garden. She can annoy the neighbours instead of me now. You were telling me Liam was easy?"

"Might get harder," Harry said. They both let that one pass. "We're going to write some songs together, try to start his career again. Louis agreed to help."

The pause was so long Harry almost thought Nick had left again. "Wow," he said. "That's—wow. He's that good?"

"Better than me," Harry said with certainty.

"So you'll end up the house husband after all, then?"

"No." Harry sighed and rolled over, facing his mobile. "I don't think he'd want that relationship either, though. But he really loves music and you should just—you should have seen how he looked. Lit up."

"You should probably check with him about that."

That seemed very unfair—like Nick was suspicious of Liam or something—but Harry knew he didn't mean any harm. "Anyway, I've been rattling on about me," Harry said.

"I think I can handle one conversation about a topic other than myself."

"Stoooooop," Harry said, laughing. "You're not that bad. I mean, sometimes—"

"Hey!" 

"Anyway, thanks," Harry said.

"No problem. Gonna call you next time Pig wees in the flat, just FYI."

"You would've done that anyway."

"Shush."

Nick laughed harder at that. "Yes, Gran," he said.

Harry groaned. "Bye, Nick."

"Bye!"

* * *

* * *

"Hello. Mr Payne?"

"Yes?" Liam said, resisting the urge to straighten his back. Formal phone calls always made him feel a little too casually dressed.

"Hi, it's Diana from Fortnam and Chapel."

"Oh, hi! Um—is everything okay?"

"Of course, Mr Payne. This is just your six-week check in."

Liam blinked. "Oh, of course," he said. He thought he might remember something like that from the packet of information he'd been given when he signed up. "Er, everything's fine."

"You're still seeing Mr Styles?"

"Yes," Liam said. "It's going well, I think."

"I'm glad to hear that." That was the warmest Liam had thought he'd ever heard her voice. "And the relationship has stayed within the Fortnam and Chapel boundaries?"

Nosy, Liam thought. "Yes."

"I'm glad to hear that. Please let us know if there's anything we can do to assist you, and good luck in love."

* * *

"How does this work?" Liam asked.

Harry pointed to Louis doing something with a laptop. "It's different every time," he said. "That's what makes it fun. But usually somebody comes in with an idea and then we all play off it. Louis's got a beat he likes so he's gonna play it for us."

"If I can get this thing working," Louis said.

"I could look—" Liam started, but Louis just waved a hand at him dismissively. It was probably a program Liam had used before, between his job and his occasional remixing, but he didn't push it.

"It's like any brainstorming," Harry continued. "Most of what we throw out we're not going to keep. Okay? So it's not personal if we don't take something you say."

"No, of course not."

Louis swore at the laptop and punched some more buttons.

Liam looked around the room. It looked like any recording studio. Industrial carpeting, lots of electronics—the way the lines were arranged made his fingers twitch, but he wouldn't mess with another person's system. He'd wanted to engineer for studio work originally, but he'd got the job with the Egg House first, and live music was fun too. 

Louis made a satisfied noise and an electric guitar sounded through the laptop speakers. "Got this from a friend," he said to Harry and Harry nodded like he knew what that meant. The third chord was more interesting than Liam expected, slipping up instead of going down like he'd anticipated. After a few repeats a bass line and drums came in, and then a few repeats later Louis faded the sound out. It went back to the beginning and the guitar started playing again, on its own—Liam glanced at the screen and realised it was just looping, so they could sing over it, apparently.

"I've been thinking something like this?" Louis said, and sang some open "ah"s, a little syncopated from the chord changes. He had a lovely high tenor, clear and piercing, without vibrato. He'd been on X Factor, they'd said; Liam hadn't thought to ask him to sing and felt a little guilty about it. He should make more of an effort to get to know Louis, since he was Harry's best friend, after all. "I'm not sure what it's about, though. That's just what it sounded like to me."

"What's it sound like to you?" Harry said to Liam.

Liam squinted at the laptop, still playing its slightly-tinny guitar through the speakers. They should hook it up to an amp or something. "Can you sing that again?" 

Louis sang again, letting his voice fall down to the relatively lower part at the end. 

Liam nodded along. "Lonely," he said at the end. "And...cold?"

"Cold," Louis said, raising an eyebrow.

"Like." Liam hesitated. "Not...during the day. At night, when it's, like, cold outside? Even if there's stuff happening."

Louis turned to look at Harry. "So, lonely at night. Sure you're doing your job there?"

"Lou," Harry said warningly.

Louis sighed. "Good, good. Lonely at night. Outside?" Liam blinked at him. "If it's cold."

"I guess," Liam said.

"Nights in the city, though," Harry said. "Right?"

Liam nodded back at him. 

Harry tilted his head and looked at Louis. "Like that night we were out in Berlin," he said, "club to club, and you kept ringing Eleanor to hear her voice?"

Louis's whole face tensed. "I wasn't the only one, as I remember. I thought your thumbs were going to fall off with all your texting."

Liam wondered if this was going to be one of Harry's exes—he knew about Taylor, obviously, and Niall had showed him some other articles he'd found online—but Harry just said, "I told you, that was just Grimmy."

"Well." Louis cleared his throat and started humming his verse again. "Late night," he sang when it got back to the beginning, then hummed along a bit more, not finding the words. "And we won't be home for..."

"For so long," Harry echoed.

"Okay." Louis scribbled something on a notebook sat in front of him. "Late night...something."

"Should mention the people we were out with," Harry said.

"Late night something with our friends?"

Liam watched it go back and forth, building the verse. He didn't contribute much—they were going much faster than he could keep up. A couple of things, at least—"won't be _going_ home" so they could hop back up from the low register instead of just starting again in the high; how to change up the repeated first melody line—but mostly he was watching Harry and Louis work, trying to learn how to do this. If he had the opportunity, he was going to take it. It still didn't feel real, somehow, that this was his life, dating Harry and writing music with him. Harry grinned at him every time he said something, which made Liam feel better about it. Harry kept bumping his foot against Liam's or letting his hand rest on Liam's knee, too, which was nice. Louis was still sharp with him, but Liam was getting the impression he was sharp with everyone. Maybe he should just try to work through it. Harry didn't even seem to notice it.

Finally Louis brought the bass and drums back in and they started working on the chorus. Music he could do better than lyrics, maybe, and as they were frowning at a tricky bit he just sang something up high in his falsetto that made them both look at him with wide eyes—Louis astonished, Harry impressed. "I can't fight this feeling," Harry said to him, smiling a little like he meant it, and Liam sang that and Louis wrote it down, and it was—it felt like everything he'd given up when he hadn't tried out again.

They didn't have a bridge before the afternoon was over, but Louis made Liam sing what they had into one of the mics so they had a recording of it, at least. Louis closed down the room whilst Harry grabbed Liam by the hand and dragged him out to the car: they had a date for barbecue to get to.

* * *

Liam could smell the charcoal on the air as he and Harry walked into the courtyard of his building. Niall was already stationed at the grill, as Liam had expected, with a pair of sunglasses on and his hair teased up into a quiff the way he usually didn't do when they were just hanging out at home—he wanted to make a good impression on Liam's behalf, Liam supposed. Except Harry had already met him. Still, it was nice.

"Smells great!" Harry said when they were close. He grinned at Niall, who gave him a thumbs up, and dumped the six-pack of Guinness he'd brought on the table where the food was.

"Hamburgers first," Niall said, "then we've got sausages and chicken later, and lots of veg."

Liam finally noticed exactly how much food was sitting on the table. "Er, I know you think Harry needs feeding up," he said uncertainly.

Harry laughed so hard that he folded up on himself a bit, and Niall pushed his sunglasses up his nose in a way that probably meant he was glaring at Liam behind them. "The LIC's coming by," he said. 

"Oh Lord," Liam said. He pulled over a couple of chairs and pushed Harry into one of them.

When he'd finished laughing, Harry said, "The lick? Like..." He stuck his tongue out.

"Get a room!" Niall yelled over the sizzle of the grill as he flipped the hamburgers.

"LIC. London Irish Crew," Liam explained. "Big group of 'em, dunno if you'll know anybody."

Harry frowned. "Should we have brought more beer?" 

"Don't worry," Niall said, "we'll have more than enough."

He wasn't wrong: seemed like every person who showed up brought at least a couple of beers, in addition to the usual array of crisps and dips and desserts that the LIC brought to any event. Harry, it transpired, didn't know most of them, but he could charm any of them as well as he'd charmed Liam, back when they'd first met. Strange to think that he knew Harry so well now that this was normal—just hanging out with a rock star. Or, not quite normal, but at least familiar. Liam had begged out of Harry's few public appearances so far. Between the reporters and Harry's fan base, he didn't want to be more public as Harry's beau than he had to be; an alpha who'd bullied him at school had already sold his name and some stories to the Sun, but at least it hadn't gone further than that, probably thanks to Harry's lawyers. Anyway. He got to show Harry off to a bunch of people who knew him better than they knew Harry, which was rare.

By the time they were done eating they'd migrated to the stairs into the building and Harry was sitting between Liam's legs a step below him, leaning back into Liam's chest. Harry was taller than him but shorter this way, and Liam had wrapped one arm around his chest and was currently pretending he wasn't smelling Harry's hair with its nice fruity shampoo. 

"So, Harry," Bressie said, "why did you sign up for this matchmaking service, anyway?"

Harry patted Liam's knee. "I wasn't doing a very good job finding somebody for myself," he said.

Bressie raised his eyebrows. "I've seen you work a crowd, mate."

Liam tightened his arm and Harry leaned back into him. "I'm good at making friends," he said. "But finding people to date, it's different, you know?" Harry sounded especially slow next to the LIC, who would all talk at once given half a chance. "And when I did, it didn't work out very well."

Eoghan started humming "Style" like the idiot he was. About five different people punched him at once, though, so he stopped, looking wounded.

"All right," Bressie said. Niall smiled at him, and Liam wondered for a moment if Niall had put him up to it. But that wasn't Niall's usual style. It was strange to think that Liam was somebody Bressie thought needed looking after; Liam would have thought the LIC cared about him only so far as he was Niall's flatmate and friend, not on his own terms.

Harry twisted around to look at Liam. He was frowning pensively, but his eyes were sparkling a little, and Liam thought he was about to make a joke. Sure enough, he said, "Why doesn't anybody ask _you_ why you chose a matchmaking service?"

"Well, I'm obviously great. They're just making sure you're not a loser who didn't have any other options," Liam said, to uproarious laughter. Harry beamed at him and pressed up for a kiss.

When they were upstairs doing the washing up, Harry said, "Are Niall and Brez together?"

Liam shrugged. "Hard to tell. Niall keeps it close to the vest."

"Okay," Harry said placidly.

Liam debated the next point, but if Harry was asking he thought he probably ought to mention it. "They spend all of Niall's heats together," he said, and Harry's eyes widened slightly. That was significant. "The rest of the time, I don't know."

Harry pursed his lips and nodded. "Some kind of poly, then?"

"Oh. Uh, I dunno," Liam said. That was a calmer response than Liam had had the first time he realised what was happening. But he guessed Harry knew lots of people with weird arrangements, Nick and all them. "Wouldn't work for me," Liam settled on.

Harry smiled at him. "Good. I like what we've got."

Liam wasn't ready to show him the bedroom yet, but they made good use of the sofa until Niall came back upstairs.

* * *

* * *

"So, date preparation," Nick said, rubbing his hands together. "What are we doing? Outfits?"

"I'm making dinner, I want some advice," Harry said.

Nick gave him his best fondly-disgusted face. "And you asked _me_ over?"

"I want you to taste it, not cook it."

"Oh, you're gonna feed me! Great." Nick pulled his messenger bag off and dumped it by his shoes. "Lead on, popstar."

"The kitchen is this way," Harry said, bowing and gesturing grandly.

Nick flashed a grin at him. "That makes me wonder how you show them the bedroom."

"If they care how I show them, I'm not doing my job properly."

Nick cackled his way into the kitchen. 

Harry pulled the tray of finger food out of the oven where it was warming and pushed it across the island to where Nick had pulled up a chair. "Try those," he said. "The pasta's still cooking."

"I would've expected something more grand from you than pasta," Nick said. "Where's my towering confection of a cake? Didn't you used to be a baker?"

"Like a wedding cake?" Harry said.

"Ah, right." Nick surveyed the tray and grabbed a mini egg roll. "So, is this how you woo all the young omegas?"

"You've never seemed to do that badly yourself," Harry said. "I mean, if Henry can be believed. And Aimee. And Gillian, and Pixie, and—"

Nick waved a hand at him. "Yeah, but I don't do all this romance stuff. Teach me your ways." He crunched into the egg roll.

"I dunno," Harry said. He considered as he stirred the pasta, which was about done. "I'm just, like, nice to them."

Nick waited a few moments, then raised his eyebrows. "That's it? You're nice?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't really have to try that hard. I dunno. I compliment them and do romantic stuff—dates and whatever—but mostly I'm just like I am with any of my friends. I guess I, like, check in on them a little more. That's it, probably."

Nick nodded. "All right."

"How about you?" Harry said. "How do you get all your young alphas into your bed?"

"Sure that's not a little too risqué for you?"

"Do I have to say the straight-but-not-narrow thing again?" Harry said.

Nick made a face. "Please don't, that's awful."

"Okay," Harry said.

"I usually pull in clubs," he said, "which is fine 'cause they're looking too. It's probably the same as you, you find somebody to dance with and make it hotter and heavier until you suggest going somewhere else."

"Yeah, same."

Nick popped one of the mini quiches into his mouth and licked his fingers clean. Not Harry's type, of course, but he could really understand why Nick pulled so many fit alphas. "Elsewhere...I dunno, really. Most people know I'm gay so sometimes alphas hit on me and I take them up on it. Or I see somebody looking and I look back."

"Same," Harry said again. "Although aren't you worried? Like, that they're just...looking."

Nick shrugged. "You learn. And you don't really approach it, like, head-on. Get to talking and drop a hint. If they're interested they pick up on it. What, do you just walk up to someone checking out your arse and say, 'Wanna shag?'"

"They're never checking out my arse," Harry said mournfully.

"Your new trainer's been good for you," Nick said with a helpful air. "Like two little peach halves now, instead of straight from your shoulders to your ankles."

"Oh thanks," Harry said.

"Welcome," Nick said. He grinned; he had some spinach stuck between his teeth, but just for that crack Harry wasn't going to tell him.

"How about dating?"

"Don't really do that, do I."

"Not at all?" Harry said.

"You ever heard me talk about it?"

"Doesn't mean you haven't," Harry said.

Nick smiled a little. "I wouldn't keep it from you."

"Yeah, but if it was just a one-off thing you might not mention it," Harry said. "Unless it went really badly. Then you'd probably tell me."

"You're too bony to cry on."

Harry frowned at him, but let it pass. "I mean, like. As a story. Like when I vommed on the highway in LA, and you—"

"Not while I'm eating, please, Harold. Have some sensitivity for my delicate constitution."

"Right," Harry said sceptically. He took the pot off the stove and walked over to the plates he'd laid out. "You want cheese on this, or are you still off dairy?"

"I'm not off dairy," Nick said indignantly. "I'm lactose intolerant."

"Okay." Harry finished pouring the pasta in.

"But give us some cheese, yes, please."

Harry turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

"It's parmesan, right? That's hardly cheese."

"No, it's hard cheese."

Nick just grimaced at him.

Harry brought the plates over to the table and pulled up a chair himself. "So you don't date at all," he said. "Not interested, or...?" He knew Nick was definitely interested in sex—he got enough of those stories, often with a bit more detail than he'd wanted—but now that they were talking about it, it was true, he didn't seem to go on actual dates that much.

Nick just shrugged. "That's a lot of work."

"And you are, of course, very lazy."

Nick raised his eyebrows. Harry couldn't tell if that was agreement with the statement or with the joke behind it. Still, this answered something for Harry: early on in their friendship, when Harry had been questioning Nick about the sex alphas had with each other, a rather drunk Nick had offered a real live demonstration, if Harry ever wanted one. And it wasn't like Harry had ever thought it was an offer of a serious relationship or something, but it was good to have confirmation of exactly what it was Nick would have wanted from him. A little weirdly painful, that, even though he'd never been tempted to take Nick up on it.

Nick poked the food a bit with his fork. "What are we eating, by the way?"

"Pasta," Harry said.

Nick poked Harry's arm with his fork instead. "I can recognise a carb when I see one. Give me details."

"Tomato sauce," Harry said slowly. 

Nick poked him again; Harry had little red dots on his arm now from the sauce on the fork tines.

"Sausage and peppers. Supposed to have onion but I skipped that."

"High hopes?" Nick said, raising his eyebrows again and wiggling them suggestively.

"We've already kissed, you know."

Nick grinned at him. "Yeah, you gave me the details, remember?"

"Right. Well, eat up. If it doesn't work without the onions I'll have to figure something out."

Nick scooped up a big bite of the pasta and chewed silently for a few moments. Harry watched him, so Nick started pulling faces, as much as he could with his mouth full (which was a lot—Nick had a very flexible face). Finally, he swallowed. "Yeah, it's fine," he said.

Harry frowned at him. "Just fine?"

"I think it would be better with the onion, honestly," Nick said. "Though I don't blame you for leaving it out."

"Hmm." Harry scooped up his own bite and tried it. Yeah, it was a little bland without the onion, but still tasty. "I think it's all right, though, don't you?"

"Sure," Nick said. "Plus it's got that special thing, like, you made it for him. That adds something, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and stopped.

Nick put down his fork and rolled his eyes. "All right. Out with it, Styles."

"I didn't say anything," Harry complained.

"You've got somethin' dirty in that head of yours," Nick said.

"Just, like," Harry said, and started to grin. "Special 'cause I made it for him. Like certain other substances he might put in his mouth—"

Nick's head thumped to the table, forehead held in his hands, but his shoulders were shaking. Harry laughed, too. 

"You are a thoroughly disgusting human being," Nick said, muffled by his hands.

"Luckily I'm charming enough to make up for it then," Harry replied, and Nick shook his head and then let his arms flop down like a rag doll and moaned. It was fine; Harry knew Nick loved him just the way he was.

* * *

* * *

A whole day together was a rare treat—album creation was more like a 9-to-5 than any other part of Harry's job, while Liam was still busy most weekend days. And of course they'd missed a whole week for Liam's heat. It was only the second day they'd had together, Harry thought, in two months of pretty serious dating, though it felt like it had to be more—if he didn't text Liam twenty times in a day it felt strange. 

Luckily for Harry, the day coincided with a group art show including a sculptor he'd been hearing about from his usual connections. Less luckily, Liam didn't seem to be enjoying it all that much.

"We don't have to stay," Harry said as they stared at a small exquisite figurine. Harry thought it was a squirrel but Liam had gone with goat.

"I know you wanted to see it," Liam said. "We can stay a bit longer, though maybe not, like, the whole day?"

"Okay," Harry said happily. He slid one arm around Liam's shoulders, pretending like it was an accident, and Liam laughed and hugged one arm around Harry's waist.

It was easy to think about doing this for a long time into the future. Harry tried to picture Liam's haircut changing—maybe getting shorter, a buzz cut, when they had a baby, so it wouldn't get tugged like Harry's would. Going grey at the temples. Harry thought it would look good on him.

"Maybe over there?" Harry said, pointing to some larger pieces. 

Liam let his arm fall so Harry did too. The larger sculptures were too big for his space, really—he still dreamed about that house in the country but he couldn't very well buy things for the garden yet when he didn't even know what it would look like. 

"What do you think about this for a garden table," Harry said, gesturing to a slab of marble set atop something that looked like a hot pink mushroom.

Liam's eyes widened. "Er," he said faintly. "You don't have a garden, though?"

"Very sensible. Can't have a garden table with no garden."

"That's why I'm the practical one." Liam smiled a bit, but in a way that made his eyes crinkle all up. Harry grinned back at him.

"I think this is the last bit I wanted to see," Harry said. "Pub, then home?"

Liam leaned into him a little. "Yeah, babe," he said, and steered them for the door.

Harry warmed—"babe" was new. He liked it.

The gallery was about a fifteen minute walk from a pub Liam liked; he'd mentioned it right away when Harry proposed the outing. He went there a lot with Niall, apparently. Harry hadn't been able to worm out of him if it was the place where they did open mic nights—Harry still hadn't convinced him to let him come. Harry wasn't sure if that was embarrassment or just feeling like it was something special he had with Niall.

Or maybe he didn't want Harry's fans there, which would be fair.

Liam waved to the bartender when they got in and took them to a booth near the back. He seemed instantly at ease, more relaxed than he'd been in the gallery. Harry felt even more guilty about it then, that he'd made Liam look so uncomfortable, even though Liam had said he was willing to try. Liam pulled a laminated menu from behind the condiments and passed it over to Harry. "It's mostly pretty good, though the salads can be a little limp," he said.

Typical pub fare, Harry thought. Mostly fried. Not a way he ate that often these days—X Factor tour surviving on fast food had done him for life, he thought. But Liam had done a thing he didn't like much for Harry, so Harry could join in with this, he thought. "Fish and chips good?" he said.

Liam nodded emphatically. "Not the neighbourhood chippie but it'll pass," he said with a smile.

"As good as you'll get in London?" Harry said teasingly.

Liam grinned. "It's not the taste of my childhood, but it'll fill a man up." 

"Stick to the ribs."

"Put hair on your chest," Liam said.

"Could use it," Harry said, pulling another button open and looking down.

Liam gave his chest a rather gratifying stare and then wiggled his eyebrows at Harry, which was so unexpected he started laughing hard enough he had to put his head down on the table.

Liam started kicking him halfheartedly when he wasn't stopping, and Harry wiped his eyes and tried to get hold of himself. "It's not that funny," Liam said, smile tickling at the corner of his mouth.

"Please, be dirty like that more often." Harry grinned at him, slow. "I like it."

Liam blushed a little, but the smile he gave Harry was as close to a dirty smirk as Harry had ever got out of him.

"So, what will you be eating to put hair on your chest, then, Liam Payne?" Harry said.

"Burger," Liam said.

"I don't think that's supposed to have much of a hirsute effect."

"That's not really my goal for the meal, if I'm honest." Liam stood up. "Food's on me, okay?" he said, and practically ran away from the table.

Then Harry felt guilty again—both because Liam was paying when Harry had so much more money than he did, and because Liam wanted to pay but felt so sure Harry would stop him that he'd pulled the equivalent of a knock-and-run. 

The pub was mostly empty, it being the middle of the afternoon on a weekday; a few regulars at the bar, Harry thought, by their settled-in looks, and a group of alphas who looked to be in their forties at a table near the door. There was a flat-screen TV above the bar showing some football game or another—not teams Harry was familiar with, anyway. Otherwise, it looked like any other pub, dark and decorated with mementos from the beers they served. He could see why Liam liked it. There was no setup for live music that he could see, so he guessed he was wrong about the open mic nights, and it was just a place Liam liked.

Liam came back with a couple of pints, and Harry took a long drink: it was unseasonably warm for April. "How d'you know this place, then?" he said.

"They show Derby County matches here, when they can get 'em," Liam said. 

Harry blinked. "Derby County?"

"Niall's team."

"Ah!" Harry said. "I thought it might be your open mic place."

"No, that's just round the corner from our flat," Liam said.

Harry filed that piece of information away. "How often do you get to come?"

"Not that often," Liam said regretfully. "Niall comes more, but I only come if our schedules line up with the games. It's fun, though."

"Sure, yeah," Harry said. "He come to yours too, then?"

Liam shook his head. "Oh, I just watch at home."

Harry knew he'd had a difficult time at school, but he still found it hard to believe that Liam didn't have that many friends in London: why wouldn't everyone want to hang out with him? He had Niall at least, and some of his old friends from Wolverhampton, and it sounded like he went out with his coworkers sometime. Harry wasn't sure how he could ever live with so few friends, though.

But, some people talked about complementarity in relationships. Maybe this was a thing they could do for each other: Harry, with the wide social circle; Liam, with the deeper focus on fewer friends, more conscientious of their alone time. Could make a nice life, that. Dinner parties with small intimate groups; big bashes in the garden with fairy lights all round. Both were nice.

"Me too," Harry said. "I mean, when I'm home."

Liam nodded and sipped his beer.

After a few minutes, Liam said, "Do we have any plans after this?" Harry felt his foot press against the outside of Harry's, just briefly.

"Thought we could head back to mine?" Harry said.

A foot press again, longer, and Liam's eyes were crinkling up in a grin. "Sounds great to me, babe," he said, and Harry's heart swelled.

* * *

* * *

"Bed?" Liam said breathlessly as Harry's hand slid up his spine, under his shirt.

Harry's mouth paused at the inside curve of Liam's pec. It was Liam's fault; he'd started the unbuttoning. "You don't have to do that," he said, rising up a bit so he could look Liam in the eye. "I know it's just the rules. I'm not offended."

Liam flexed his hips up so his dick pressed into Harry's belly. "'S not like I'm doing you a favour, mate," he said, grinning. Heat on his own had really sucked, and he was about done with the rules. Those rules, anyway.

Harry surged up so his mouth covered Liam's. That was probably a yes, Liam thought, a bit hazy because of Harry's tongue. Harry kissed the tip of his nose before sitting back, which made Liam smile. "Do you want me to carry you?" Harry said.

Liam thought about Harry's gangly, floppy walk and said, "No, that's okay." In the back of his mind, a younger version of himself was laughing himself silly at the thought of Harry Styles asking him if he wanted to be carried to the bedroom.

Harry hopped up and offered Liam a hand, so Liam let Harry pull him up. Stronger than he looked, string bean of a thing. Liam grabbed Harry's waist as Harry led him to the bedroom. "No, no, ticklish!" Harry said, starting to run away, so Liam dug his fingers in and held on as Harry ran them right into the bedroom and onto the bed, laughing. He squirmed away and then rolled over to pin Liam down—not really, Liam could still get away, but it was nice. "We can do whatever you want to do."

"Your mouth," Liam said, before he could really think about it. Harry had a wide, generous mouth, clever tongue, soft lips, and Liam had already wanked to it a couple of times, if he was honest.

"Yay!" Harry said, making Liam giggle. 

Harry pressed a kiss to the soft bit under the corner of Liam's jaw and then set about unbuttoning his jeans. Liam had been slightly worried he'd tease, even though they'd been making out for forever already, but Harry just pushed his jeans down and then carefully lifted the elastic of Liam's boxers over his dick. "Oh, look at you," Harry said, quietly, greedily, letting his eyes rake up Liam's abs and chest before settling on his face. "God, you should be naked all the time."

Liam smiled. "I'm not even naked now."

"Right. Shirt off." Harry grabbed fistfuls of fabric and yanked Liam's jeans and boxers right off. Liam slid his open shirt off his shoulders and half sat up to let it fall off his arms; Harry fitted his hand around the base of Liam's dick before Liam had even managed to lay back down. Harry made sure Liam was looking before he dipped down to take Liam into his mouth.

Liam moaned and let his head fall back. The sight of it was amazing, Harry's mouth filled with Liam's dick and Harry watching him the whole time, but he was already too worked up and the sensation was enough on its own. Liam let his thighs fall open and settled one calf across the small of Harry's back, warm through the soft fabric of his shirt. Harry's hand pulled Liam's hip up towards him and Liam took the hint, rocking gently into and out of Harry's mouth.

He thought he wouldn't last long and he didn't, spurting onto Harry's tongue after not nearly enough time to enjoy the way he felt. He pushed up onto his elbows to make sure that had been okay—he didn't think he'd given enough warning—and Harry was wiping a drip of come off the corner of his mouth and then sucking his thumb clean with a thoughtful expression, so, yes. Fine. "Thanks," Liam said, and Harry smiled up at him and then knee-walked up so he was straddling Liam's waist.

"I want to come on your chest," Harry said. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, yes," Liam said. He tried to settle his arms to look more receptive. 

Harry slid the zip of his jeans down and then took his dick out of his pants. Liam swallowed when he got a look at it. Harry wrapped a couple of fingers around the tip and started jerking himself in short, hard strokes. "Um, could you—?" he said, and Liam went to replace him, but Harry just grabbed his hand and closed a few fingers around the base, under his own hand, so they were both wanking half his dick. Not enough room to move much, but Harry's eyelids dropped to half mast like he was enjoying himself anyway. The skin was softer down where Liam's hand was, not stretched taut around a knot he wouldn't form without more pressure. Liam timed himself to rub with Harry's pace, and before long Harry let out a low groan and his dick kicked in Liam's hand, striping Liam's chest with streaks of white. 

Harry breathed hard through his mouth and stared so hard at Liam's chest Liam thought he would burn a hole through him. "Fuck," Harry said quietly. "That was so hot. You're so hot. Here—" He leaned over to the bedside table and extracted a packet of baby wipes, pulling out a few to clean the come off Liam's chest. 

"Could've left that," Liam said as Harry rubbed him clean.

"Messy and I want to spoon you," Harry said. He rolled off Liam and took off his shirt, then grabbed Liam's arm to pull around him so Liam figured he actually meant be spooned _by_ Liam. 

Liam tucked his knees into the backs of Harry's knees and put his arm around Harry's chest. He kissed the nape of Harry's neck through his hair. "You're not very much like a typical alpha," he said.

"What's a typical alpha?" Harry said. He lifted Liam's hand up to kiss his palm gently in the centre, then let his arm settle around his chest again. 

"I dunno," Liam said. "You're not that pushy, except when you want me to spoon you, apparently." He clutched Harry a bit tighter to himself, just so Harry would know he wasn't upset about it.

Harry hummed and settled back into Liam's chest. "Sounds more like arseholes than alphas."

"Maybe." Liam petted Harry's hair back away from his neck so he could smell him better and Harry obligingly curved his throat. "I like you, anyway. Even if you're kinda weird."

"'s not like you're a typical omega either," Harry said drowsily. "You're, like, built."

"That's not that rare," Liam said.

"Neither's a kind alpha." Harry sighed out when Liam licked his pulse point—too many alpha pheromones coming off him, Liam couldn't help it. 

"I guess."

"Anyway, I love all the ways you are. Omega or not."

Liam smiled and kissed Harry's neck again. "You too, babe."

* * *

Niall's head came up right away when Liam walked into the kitchen. "Oho!"

"Oh, no, is it that strong?" Liam said, trying and failing to smell himself. Nobody had bothered him on the Tube home, but then, they wouldn't, if he smelled like another alpha.

"No," Niall said. "But I know you pretty well, so I can tell. How was it, then?" He dumped his mug on the dish drainer and came to sit at the table, gesturing Liam down next to him.

Liam went red and Niall laughed so hard he had to rest his head on the table. "It was fine," Liam said when Niall had quieted enough to hear him.

"Glad he's taking care of you," Niall said, wiping tears out of his eyes. "Jesus, Payno, your face."

"It's just my face," Liam said, which made Niall laugh again, inexplicably.

"Good." Niall beamed at him. "He's good for you."

Liam found himself straightening his back automatically, looking for better posture. "Yeah?" 

"I thought you were gonna wait the full six months even though that's a stupid rule," Niall said. "So yeah. You're all relaxed and stuff. I like it."

"I'm usually relaxed. Aren't I?"

Niall shrugged. "Sometimes," he said. "You can be kinda intense, though. I mean—pot, kettle." He waved his hand around the flat. Liam thought he was referring to the absolute lack of clutter or messiness on any surface, and maybe the one blow-up screaming fight the two of them had had, which concerned exactly how much cleanup was to be done the night of a party vs what could be done the next morning. "But it's nice to see. Good for you."

"Okay," Liam said. He paused. "I'm still not going to let you cheat at FIFA, though."

Niall cracked up again. "That's fine, I wouldn't expect you to."

Later, when they were actually playing FIFA, Liam ventured, "And things with Brez are...?" He usually didn't ask because he never understood any answer longer than a few words, but if Niall was being nosy he could be, too. Especially since Brez had stood up for him the other night with Harry, just in case.

But Niall just shrugged and said, "Yeah, good." 

Liam smiled. He liked it when things were going well for both of them.

* * *

Harry's flat worked just as well for songwriting as the studio did. Not the same way—Harry had been right that it was different every time—but something about the open space, well-known to Liam by now, inspired creativity in a way that the industrial carpeting and bad lighting of the studio didn't, even though the equipment wasn't as good. 

Of course, since it was Harry's home, that meant they had an audience too. At the moment Zayn was there, lounging on a sofa and occasionally offering suggestions. Liam still didn't have a good read on Zayn, except that he liked comics like Liam did, and also did some sick art things, including directing his own music videos. He'd actually brought a few of the props for the latest with him: shoes probably intended for drag queens, neon-coloured clothing, ridiculous wigs. The writing session had started with an off-the-cuff costume party. Liam had worn a purple wig for a few minutes until it got too hot, and Louis had satisfied himself with neon green fingerless gloves, but as far as Liam knew Harry was still in the kitchen doing the dishes in knee-high silver glitter platform boots. Was this really Liam's life now? Half the time it seemed normal, and half the time it was so strange.

"Crazy For You?" Liam offered, looking at the list of song titles they'd collected so far.

Louis wrote it down. "Who's that?" 

"Gershwins, I think. Some kind of musical theatre song. My voice teacher made me sing it."

Louis made a face at the paper. "Too old, sorry." He scratched it out.

Crazy In Love, Crazy, Crazy For You...those were about all the crazy songs Liam knew. Hmm. He wanted to do well so Louis would keep working with him; he'd liked the last song they did. And he was friends with Harry, so there wasn't any weirdness about Liam having an alpha and that alpha being Harry. Or any weirdness on Harry's part about Liam spending so much time with another alpha. "All Shook Up?" he said finally.

"That's almost as old," Louis said, but wrote it down.

"Rock classic, though."

"Dancing on the Ceiling," Zayn said, not looking up from his mobile. Liam wasn't sure how much of the conversation he was following, but it seemed it was more than he'd thought

"No," Louis said.

"Oh, yes," Liam said, grinning. Beautiful. He wrestled the pen out of Louis's hand and wrote it down himself. He was finally getting a handle on this whole Louis thing, he thought. Louis was looking at him strangely, but Liam ignored it. "All My Life," he added, below it.

"I haven't thought about that song in years," Louis said, shifting closer so he could see the notebook better.

"My sisters really loved it." Liam hummed a bit of it, then broke into "And I pray that you do love me too," just because it was hard to hum the last bit in falsetto.

Louis made an offended noise and Zayn whistled out from his spot on the other sofa. "Sick, bro," he said. 

"Is that enough?" Louis said, frowning down at the notepad. 

"We can start with that."

"Okay." Louis took the pen out of his hand and started scanning the list. "Rhyming pairs, go."

"Ceiling and Feeling," Liam said instantly.

"Well, shit," Louis said, but he marked them down.

When Liam and Louis were in the middle of an extended argument about whether "baby" and "crazy" were close enough to count as a rhyme, Harry walked in with a tray of freshly-baked chocolate biscuits. He'd somehow added a neon pink scarf like a headband and, indeed, still had on the glittery boots. And was still stunningly attractive despite it. Liam was happy to drop the argument in favour of a mouthful of fresh crumbly biscuit, and it seemed Louis was too. Louis took his over to the pile of Zayn's leftover costume bits, leaving a free space for Harry to sit down in and spread his gangly limbs to claim Liam. "The song sounds good so far," Harry said, watching Liam's face, hawklike, as Liam chewed.

"Delicious," Liam pronounced, and Harry smiled. "I mean, thanks. But we've hardly done anything yet."

Harry pushed the notebook with his glittery platform toe. "That looks like anything."

"I guess."

Behind Harry, Louis had extracted a curly brown wig teased up into a beehive and a yellow scarf. He put the wig on and threw the scarf around it and then did a passable impression of Harry's pigeon-toed walk. Until that moment Liam hadn't realised that he could recognise it so easily. He pinched back his smile so Harry wouldn't notice. The wig hair did sort of look like Harry's, too.

"And you're still very new to this," Harry said, attention still fixed on Liam. Liam hadn't got used to so much concentrated Harry attention, even after a couple of months of dating. 

"Thanks," Liam said. "How long did it take you to get good at this?"

Harry smiled at him and pushed his hair back. "A while," he said. "They didn't even let me write on my first album. And then it was a lot of, like, sitting in rooms and adding a lyric or two and getting writing credit." Louis reappeared from somewhere—Liam hadn't really even been aware he'd gone—and walked over to the wig with a pair of scissors. "I mean, I was writing other songs and stuff, but the producers didn't think they were good enough for me—they'd get passed to other people sometimes. Over time I got better, though. I got more freedom when I turned in Broken Hearts." Louis snipped off one of the curls on the wig, for no reason Liam could figure out. "You're already contributing more than I did at first," Harry finished.

"Wow," Liam said, thinking about that.

"Don't you think so, Zayn?" Harry asked, pitched a little louder, and Zayn made a noncommittal noise over his mobile.

Louis walked up behind Harry with the scissors and the curl in his hands. Harry turned to look as he got closer, apparently long experienced with bad things happening when Louis approached. Louis hid the goods behind his back.

"These aren't as good as your songs, though," Liam said.

Harry turned back to frown at Liam, and Louis edged closer. "Most of my songs aren't as good as my songs," he said. It was probably a sign of how much time they'd been spending together that Liam understood that perfectly. Louis started to pull his hands out from behind his back and Harry tilted his head back so he could glare at Louis, giving Liam a nice look at his throat all stretched out and lovely. "Whatever you're doing back there, don't," Harry said to Louis.

"I'm not doing anything, am I, Liam?" Louis said.

"I'll leave you two to this," Liam said, and escaped to the kitchen for a beer.

Harry and Louis were still in some kind of detente when Liam came back, so he went over to sit by Zayn. Zayn smiled and held out his mobile, which had a bit of music video footage on it; Liam nodded along and gave him a thumbs up when he was done. "Sick," he said. 

He wondered if he'd ever get a music video. What a thought, Liam Payne in a music video. Dancing.

"Come write with me, Liam," Louis said loudly from the other side of the room. Harry just shook his head.

Zayn nodded, so Liam went back over. He walked behind Louis and took the scissors and the lock of hair out of his hands; he thought he'd figured out what Louis was going for, but Harry would never trust Louis enough to make it work. "Where were we?"

"We were deciding that 'crazy' and 'baby' weren't close enough to a rhyme."

"They're fine," Liam said. "And do you have something better? None of these rhyme except—"

"Yes, fine, we can use Dancing on the Ceiling," Louis said.

"Find something better than 'baby' and 'crazy' and we can use that too."

Louis huffed and went back to the notebook. Harry kept an eagle eye on him, which gave Liam the perfect opportunity to brush against Harry's hair, snick the scissors and drop the lock of wig hair into his lap.

Harry squealed and clapped his hand to the back of his head. He turned huge, shocked, betrayed eyes on Liam. "You—!"

But the look on Louis's face was even better. He stared at Liam, face frozen for a split second, and then gave him the biggest, wolfiest, evilest grin Liam had ever seen on a human being. It wasn't a grin that said, _I'm about to eat you,_ which was always how Liam had thought Louis felt about him. It was a grin that said, _Well done, young Padawan. Stick with me and you will learn something._

Luckily Zayn was laughing hysterically and pointing out the wig in the corner, because Liam and Louis were too amused to bother explaining that they hadn't, in fact, ruined Harry's most famous feature.

Harry smiled a little, but it wasn't as big a grin as Liam had been expecting. He felt abruptly guilty. "Sorry, babe," he said, leaning in to kiss Harry's cheek. "I thought it was funny, I didn't think it would really bother you."

"That's okay," Harry said. "Now give me the scissors like the nice boy you are."

Liam smiled and put the scissors in his hand. Harry pecked him on the lips and then turned to Louis. "No corrupting my boyfriend," he said, pointing with the scissors. "I'm the only one who gets to do that."

"Fine, fine," Louis said, winking broadly at Liam.

Harry turned back to Liam with an expression Liam couldn't place: fond, maybe a little amused, but something else too. "Let's hear you sing this thing, then," he said, and Liam felt forgiven.

* * *

* * *

"Hiya!" Nick said brightly. "Thanks for calling, I was about to have to attend this horrible meeting because I couldn't think of a good excuse."

"I'm a wonderful excuse," Harry said. "Proper pop star, I am. Important connection for your job." He took a sip of his smoothie from the top of the kitchen island, hoping Nick couldn't hear him slurping.

"That's what I told Big Boss Ben," Nick said. "What's going on, proper pop star?"

"I need a jeweller."

"Do I want to know what kinky sex thing this is for?" Nick said with relish. He would always want to know.

"Hey," Harry said. "Liam's a very nice boy."

"You're not, though. I mean—you're nice, but you're also...not nice. Hmm. That sounds silly."

"It does." He was nice enough for Liam, he hoped, and he liked absolutely plain-vanilla sex as much as he liked all the other kinds, or at least the ones he'd tried. "It's not for a kinky sex thing."

"What's it for, then?" Nick said, a little more sharply than Harry might have hoped for. He'd been trying to keep his decision under wraps, after all, but he needed Nick's artistic taste and London knowledge for this.

"Maybe it's a surprise for you."

"You don't buy me jewellery." The sound suddenly echoed less, Nick must have wandered into one of the studios. "Or if you did, it would be kinky sex jewellery, and you already said it wasn't that."

"When have I ever bought you kinky sex jewellery," Harry said. "What's kinky sex jewellery, anyway?"

"Dunno, really. Bejewelled nipple rings? Oooh, you should pierce your nipples, you show 'em off enough."

"Ow," Harry said.

Nick cackled. "You have how many tattoos and you won't even try a piercing?"

"Not my nipples," Harry said. "They're very sensitive."

"Even with Louis—"

Harry huffed. "He doesn't do that to me any more."

"What, one inappropriate erection and that was it for the nipple pinching?" 

Harry didn't reply. 

"Okay, maybe I didn't want to know that."

"Shouldn't've asked, then," Harry said. "Now, Nicholas, I need you to focus very carefully. Concentrate. Are you paying attention?"

"I'm staring at a purple wall. In comparison, believe me, your words are riveting."

"Jeweller. Good one, unique stuff. You must know somebody."

"You're gonna have to tell me what it's for," Nick said.

"That can't possibly matter."

"It doesn't. Consider the knowledge payment for my services."

Harry pictured Nick's big hands waving around emphatically as he said that. "Maybe it's a surprise," he said again.

Nick hummed and then abruptly stopped. "Tell me it's not an engagement ring," he said.

"Oh," Harry said, breath knocked out of him. Nick wasn't supposed to guess.

"Harry," he said, and stopped. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" His voice was so careful; Harry hated that.

"I love him." Wow, that was probably the first time he'd said it to somebody besides Liam. "I love him, and he's perfect. We don't have to get married right away, just...I want him to know I'm a safe bet."

He heard Nick let out a long breath. "Harry, love," he said. "I know a lot of things in your life have happened really fast, and you've handled it all really well. But you don't need to rush this."

"I'm not," he said. "Like I said...we don't have to get married yet. I just want us to be thinking about it."

"How long have you been dating?"

"Since February. You know that."

"I do," Nick said. "That's four months, Harry." Nick didn't usually say his name that much, which was worrying on its own.

Harry sighed. He'd really hoped Nick would be supportive, when he got around to telling him. Of course he'd also thought he could wait until it was a fait accompli. "I'm not doing it, like, right now. But our six months are up right around his birthday, so I want to propose around then. Thought I'd start looking into the ring now so I have the time to find one I really love."

"What if you change your mind?"

"Then I'll have a ring I don't need, I guess." Harry drummed his heels against the bar stool legs. "What does it matter, though? If I do it now or not. I mean, that was the whole idea of matchmaking, right? Finding something permanent?"

"It's a lot of pressure on a relationship that young. You're still getting to know each other only now it's like, family stuff, and thinking about where you'll live, and having to consult the other person for all sorts of decisions."

"You seem to know a lot about it," Harry said, then regretted it.

Nick didn't respond like Harry thought he would, though, just said flatly, "I've had the advantage of learning from other people's mistakes."

"Anyway, I want all that," Harry said. "Planning for the future, thinking of us as a unit. You know."

"You should let it develop on its own, though," Nick said gently. "Not force it."

"It will." Harry rested his temple on his first. 

"What does Louis say?"

"He doesn't know." Harry sighed. "I didn't want you to know either, but you guessed. And, like. Louis's sad he's alone so it's—if somebody knows I'd rather it was you."

"Well, it's nice bein' the number one confidante for once," Nick said teasingly. It made Harry feel a little better, if not much. "I'm here for you whatever, you know that."

"Yeah."

"Okay. But just, like. Think about why you didn't want us to know," Nick said. "Okay?"

There wasn't anything in it; he just wanted privacy. "Okay," he said anyway. If it made Nick feel better, he'd try. 

"I'll ask around about the jeweller and text you, then."

"You don't know somebody offhand?" Harry said, smiling a little.

"You said unique," Nick said. "The only unique people I know are more like my taste and yours. I don't think they'd make something that suited Liam."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"Thanks for gettin' me out of the meeting," Nick said. "Talk to you later, proper pop star."

"Yep, Mr. DJ, keep playin' that song—"

"No!" Nick yelled, and hung up on him, leaving Harry laughing alone in his kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

"And how's little Niall?" Liam's mum asked.

"Mum, he's not little," Liam protested. 

"Darn right I'm not!" Niall yelled from the kitchen. He knew Liam's mum too well.

Liam sighed and got up to close his bedroom door. "He's fine," Liam said, settling back into his desk chair. "Doing radio things. Playing video games. You know."

"Nobody special in his life?" his mum said, leading.

"Mum, we're young. We don't need to settle down yet."

"Really," she said. "And how's Harry, then?"

Liam guessed he should have seen that one coming. "We're not that serious." For the most part, that was true. They'd talked about what they'd want a life together to look like—obviously—but they hadn't discussed anything like moving in together, not for real. Liam couldn't even really picture how that would work, the two of them living together when their lives were so different. Not that he'd tell his mum if they were thinking about moving in together before marriage; that way lay madness. And tears. Lots and lots of tears. Probably from both of them. "It's really good, I'm really happy, though," he said.

"Good!" 

"I can't believe it's only been five months." Harry had slotted into his life so easily, even though they led such different lives. It was like they'd known each other for years. Liam was getting used to finding Harry's eyes in a room, watching his mobile face and easy grin react to what was happening around them. When it was just the two of them, Liam could forget, sometimes, all the other things, Harry's career and Liam's hopes.

"That's just the way it's supposed to be," his mum declared. 

"Was it like that for you and Dad?"

"Oh yes," his mum said, starting again with a story Liam had heard half a hundred times, about the date when she knew she wanted to marry Liam's dad. It was warm and homey to hear it, and Liam dropped onto the bed to listen again.

* * *

Liam hadn't yet told anybody at his day job that he was taking up the performing thing again. Most of them didn't even know he'd done the performing thing before, in fact. But he'd probably have to tell them soon—he'd been looking for a regular gig, just a place to get up and sing a couple of nights a week as the doors opened until he got more comfortable. He wouldn't feel right working at another venue, even in another capacity, if he didn't tell Paddy at least. Awkward as that would be.

"Got a date with your boy tomorrow?" Suzie from the front office said, leaning on Liam's sound board. 

"Yeah, lunch and a bit of a walk," Liam said. He'd been papped with Harry a couple of times before she'd seen it, but as soon as she did she'd figured it out. He still refused to talk about him or give out any personal details, but everyone could still see his work schedule.

"Walk?"

"Yeah. I've never done the proper tourist thing through Regent's Park and he lives close, so he promised to take me around before we ate," Liam said. It was the sort of stupid romantic stuff he'd missed, being single or just casually dating over the last year or so, and he was glad Harry had suggested it.

Suzie nodded. "You're gonna get mobbed by the fans."

"In the morning?" Liam said sceptically, and she smiled and patted his cheek.

"You keep on believing that, honey," she said, and walked off.

In fact, they didn't get stopped by fans all that often. Harry seemed to be less aware of it than Liam was—it was normal for him, Liam supposed. And maybe it would be normal for Liam one day, too, though he was still having trouble making this job and Harry's life fit together in his head. He smiled to himself and tidied up his work area, resetting everything for the show later that night. Whatever else was happening with his own music, it was good to have something reliable, something he was good at, that helped other people make music too.

He shouldn't pin his hopes on wild dreams like performing, he knew. And he hadn't. But it was good to feel, for the first time in a while, that maybe those wild dreams were within reach anyway.

* * *

* * *

As they strolled down the far side of Primrose Hill, Harry said, "You said you ran here sometimes?"

Liam nodded. "It's nice. My ex, Sophia, liked to come here. It's a good place to run so I come back sometimes when I want a change of scenery." He grinned. "Maybe we would have met sometime, even without Fortnam & Chapel."

"Maybe." They didn't talk about their exes much—though Harry had gathered that Liam and Sophia dated longer than Harry and Taylor had. Taylor was still the only person Harry would call an ex, with all the baggage that implied. "But you've never gone down into Regent's Park?"

Liam shook his head. "The hill's enough of a workout!"

"Then I'll show you my favourite bits, how about that?"

"You already said when you texted me," Liam said, laughing a little.

"Wanted to make sure you hadn't changed your mind," he said. Really, he'd asked because he was nervous, but he didn't want to say that yet. "Or done, like, extensive research and picked the five most unusual pieces of rock that you wanted to see."

"Do I seem like a rock kind of man?"

"More, like, pop-rock." Harry shoved a hand through his hair and grinned. He hadn't dressed up or anything—didn't want to give the surprise away—but he had made sure to put Lou T's smoothing stuff in his hair so it stayed looking like hair and not a rat's nest of curls.

"Oh yeah, Louis played me demo of that song you wrote, with all the song titles. Sick."

Liam ducked his head, grinning. "You like it, then?"

"Yeah. That's how many now?"

"Four that we've made demos of," Liam said. "One I, er, one I wrote and Louis recorded when we did that one. And then that one, and another one I wrote with Louis, and the one the three of us wrote."

Harry waited until Liam looked over at him, then smiled encouragingly. "You're in good hands."

"Yeah, I am. Thank you," Liam said, big eyes trying to convey his sincerity. Harry was never sure why he worked so hard—his innate goodness seemed to just radiate off him. Harry tried to imagine what he'd look like accepting an award for his album (Harry was absolutely sure he'd be able to make one) and it just...melted him. He'd never felt anything like this before for somebody.

And the thing was, Liam was a great partner, too: reliable, steady, cheerful. It wasn't just that Harry loved him, it was that he thought they'd be great together, a team, a family. He knew he was right. It wasn't quite six months yet, but he didn't want to wait any longer.

"You said you had a story about Frances to tell me?" Harry said as they crossed into Regent's Park. He thought he'd take Liam through Queen Mary's Gardens first, then over to the gardens around St. John's Lodge, which were less trafficked and more private.

"Oh yeah!" Liam said enthusiastically. "She was one of the first shows I did when I moved to London." Liam knew a lot of musicians Harry had heard of via Nick and Louis, but had never met. It was insight into the kind of small venues and sometimes haphazard organisation that Harry had skipped entirely via X Factor. He knew he was lucky, that even making it to the kind of venue where Liam worked was more success than most artists ever got, but sometimes he missed those formative experiences, having to grab an audience's attention and keep it when they didn't know who you were, getting to surprise people with what you could do.

Liam's story took them most of the way through the rose garden. Harry took over as Regent's Park tour guide as he led Liam through the canopied entry into the lodge gardens, around some of the statuary and back to a bench he'd scouted the week before. Not exactly secluded—nothing in here was—but a little set back, with greenery above, making it look private. At least it wasn't one of the major attractions, and with his hair pulled back into a bun and some of his less flashy clothing on, they might not get disturbed at all.

As they walked along the path, Liam asked, "How often do you come here?"

"Not as often as I'd like," Harry said. "It's very peaceful."

Liam nodded.

"There's a nice bench just around the corner, if you want to sit for a bit."

"Sure."

Harry sat down at the edge of the bench when they reached it, and Liam joined him in the middle. Not quite cuddling, but as close as Liam usually got in public.

"So," Liam said, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye. His mouth was neutral, but his eyes were smiling. "Plants."

"Yes," Harry said. "Plants."

"Sure are a lot of 'em," Liam said.

"Almost like we're in a garden or sommat."

"Funny how that works."

"I think I see something," Harry said, and slid off the bench, onto his knees in the soil.

"See what?" Liam said, leaning forward.

Harry dug in his pocket. "Liam," he said. "There was something I wanted to ask you." He got up onto one knee and raised his face to look at Liam.

Liam had gone white. "Harry—"

"I know we haven't known each other that long," Harry said. "But it doesn't take long knowing you to know how wonderful you are." He smiled as softly as he could. 

"Harry," Liam said again. "Don't." He was frowning hard, and Harry couldn't fathom it—had he picked the wrong place? Was he saying too much?

He wavered. "I know I don't always do the right thing, but Liam, I love you."

"Please, Harry," Liam said, sounding on the edge of tears, and that—that wasn't right at all, that wasn't what Harry wanted. Liam stood and then put his hands under Harry's elbows and hauled him to his feet. Harry had a damp patch on one knee from the soil, and the ringing echoes of Liam's fingers on his arm felt halfway like the things he loved from having sex with Liam and half like a brand, warning him back.

"Liam?" he said. Quiet. Couldn't control the pitch of his voice, for once.

Liam dashed his fingers under his eyes. He was really crying, then, and Harry couldn't stand it. "I can't marry you."

A hundred possibilities flashed before Harry's eyes, each less likely than the next. "We can—whatever it is, we can work it out."

"I don't think so," Liam said. He swallowed, then visibly steeled himself. "I love you," he said, and for a moment, Harry hoped he might change his mind. "I do. But—this was never going to work."

"Why not?"

"You don't want somebody like me," Liam said, half on a laugh. Not a happy one. 

Harry stepped forward; it about killed him when Liam stepped back. "But I do," he said uncertainly. "I mean—we talk all the time, we're together when we can—am I not making enough time? I can be better."

A woman came around the corner, saw them talking, and quickly walked away.

"You've got this life," Liam said. "These interesting friends and these, like, things you like to do, and none of that is me."

"That doesn't matter." Harry held a hand out, palm up. "We want the same things, don't we? Family, and we, like. We think about treating people well, and that matters more than my hobbies. Doesn't it?"

Liam shook his head slowly. "Family, yeah," he said. "But when it's just us? We've got a free day and you want an art show and I want to kick a football and grab a round at the pub with my mates."

"We can do that. We don't have to do everything together." He should have known that art show was a bad idea. 

"We have to do something, though, and I." Liam swallowed. "What have we ever had in common besides music?"

"But that's everything," Harry said.

"I love you," Liam said again, and he took Harry's hand, and they were both crying by then. "But I will never, ever feel like I'm good enough for you."

"Don't I get to choose that?" Harry squeezed Liam's hand. "You're good enough for me. Too good."

"I _can't_. I'm sorry, Harry." Liam kissed his cheek, and that was worse than anything, because it should have been a kiss on the lips.

"I can take it back," Harry said, one last-ditch attempt. "We can pretend it never happened."

Liam shook his head. "This has been amazing. You don't even know how much this has meant to me."

"It's meant so much to me too. We don't have to end it."

"I do," Liam said. He hugged Harry, then, and Harry hugged back, even though he half wanted to push Liam away and get it over with. "Thank you."

"I love you," Harry said damply into the side of Liam's neck.

Liam drew back. "I think I should go now."

"I can call the car service—"

"No," Liam said, looking disturbed.

"It's no trouble," Harry said. "Or—money for a taxi?"

"The Tube will get me there."

Harry started digging his wallet out of his trouser pocket. "It's the least I can do. Here, please, take it—" He shoved a couple of bills at Liam.

"Okay," Liam said quietly. He looked at them and at Harry for a minute. Then he said, "Goodbye," and walked away.

Harry sat down, hard, and put his hands in his pockets. The box was there, hard and sharp-edged; he'd never even got it out. He took it out and stared at the ring Liam would never see, incised with a chevron pattern all along the band. He'd thought it was just the right mix of simple and elegant. It would have been perfect for him.

But, apparently, Harry wasn't perfect for him. So the ring didn't matter at all.

* * *

Harry was dialling Nick's number even before he'd locked the door behind him. He was the only one who knew Harry's plans—Harry'd even wanted to surprise his mum.

"Hiya!" Nick said on the second ring.

"I proposed to Liam."

Harry didn't know what Nick heard in his voice, but the first words out of Nick's mouth were, "Oh, shit. What happened?"

"He turned me down." Telling somebody made it real, somehow, and he felt tears start to drip down his face again. "Shit."

"Oh, love," Nick said. "I'm sorry."

"I thought it was, like, perfect," Harry said, voice wobbling, "but he said he'd never be good enough for me. That's wrong, right? Like. I didn't do anything to make him think that." 

"No. But your lives are really different. Some people just don't adjust to change that fast."

"Why didn't he say something before?"

"I don't know."

Harry took the phone away from his face so he could blow his nose. "Did you think he was going to say no, when you told me not to propose?" he said.

"No. Of course not. I would've told you, if I thought so," Nick said.

"Okay," Harry said. He hiccoughed a sob, not quite able to keep it in. Jesus, he hadn't cried like this since he was a teenager. 

"Stop that, you're making me cry too," Nick said nervously from the other end of the line.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise, just cry a little quieter, okay?" Nick said, and he did sound a bit damp himself. "So—are you gonna wait and try again, or—"

"No. I mean, he finished with me."

Nick sighed. "That sucks."

"Yeah."

"How are you doing? Puddle of snot and tears?" he said sympathetically.

Harry looked at the tissue. "Yep."

"Good, good."

"Can I come over?" Harry said impulsively.

"I'm not at home," Nick said. "Got work this afternoon."

"Shit, sorry!"

"It's okay. You want to come over later? I'm told ice cream and sad rom coms is appropriate breakup behaviour. I can provide both."

"Please, yeah," Harry said.

"Okay. I'll text you when I'm home."

"Thanks."

They said their goodbyes and Harry was left staring at his mobile. He closed his eyes against a fresh wave of tears, then opened his texts; his family, at least, deserved to know what had happened.

* * *

* * *

Liam opened the door to the flat and stopped dead: Bressie was sitting sprawled out on one of their sofas, looking right at home but also menacing. Liam usually didn't notice how big he was, but it was impossible to miss, with the way his powerful arms stretched across the back of the sofa. 

Niall popped his head out of the kitchen. "Hey," he said, and he sounded so gentle Liam almost wanted to cry again. "I made us some cheese toasties, thought we could eat them in bed like savages and talk about how alphas are terrible. No offense, Brez. You want one too?"

"You did a tomato one for me, didn't you," he said, not at all bothered by the imprecations against his gender, apparently.

"Yeah, here." Niall handed over a plate. "Liam, go to bed, I'll be in in a minute."

"Thanks," Liam said, feeling it deeply. He kicked off his shoes and put them neatly in the shoe holder the way Niall always wanted and Liam usually forgot, and then he went to his room and sat at the head of the bed and concentrated on not crying. 

True to his word, Niall appeared a few minutes later with a plate loaded down with crusty sandwiches in one hand and two steaming mugs of tea held by their handles in the other. He shut the door with his foot. "Hi, pet," he said. He deposited the tea on the bedside table and took the foot of the bed. He put the plate between them. "Alphas are shit, yeah?"

"I broke up with him though," Liam said miserably.

"Doesn't matter, he was obviously still at fault." Niall waved at the mugs of tea.

Liam picked up his usual mug and took a mouthful—two sugars, wonderful. He let the warmth of it seep into him. 

"Did he do something?" Niall asked. "Your text was a bit terse."

"Just proposed," Liam said. He took another drink. "He took me down into Regent's Park and proposed in a garden. Or—tried to propose, I didn't let him finish. Very romantic, though."

"You like romance."

"I know." Liam frowned at his mug of tea. "But it wasn't—it didn't feel like. Like I could be his husband. It felt like a fairy tale or something. And it wasn't me."

Niall nodded.

"He was so nice, though," Liam said, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "God, I really—I really loved him."

"But you couldn't have married him," Niall said.

It felt better, hearing Niall say it. "No," Liam said. "No."

"Well then." Niall held up the plate. "Toastie?"

"Yeah," Liam said. It was as perfect as Niall's food always was, crispy on the outside and soft inside, just the right amount of cheese. "I broke up with him, why does it feel like this," he said, when he'd swallowed.

"It's still a breakup," Niall said.

Liam chewed on another bite of his cheese toastie. "Thanks for this, by the way," he said.

"Course, pet," Niall said. 

"The sex was really good, too," Liam said mournfully.

Niall's laugh rippled out of him. "Oh, now we're going to talk about that?"

"Not really," Liam said. "I'm just...it was nice."

Niall waggled his eyebrows. "Get a good knotting or two in?"

"Waiting for heat," Liam said. Also, while he liked knotting, he'd never really been like Niall, for whom it was—apparently—his favourite thing. Not that Liam really liked to think about the conversations that had revealed that to him. He sighed. "But what if this was my last chance? What if I don't ever find someone who's right for me? Everyone says Fortnam & Chapel is the best."

"Aw." Niall rubbed Liam's upper arm. "You're young—I mean, obviously you're ancient and wrinkled compared to me—but in an absolute sense, you're young." Liam fake-glared at him; Niall was always good for lifting his spirits. "And it's not all, like, matching up on paper, this pheromone marker matching this one, whatever. Sometimes you just like people. And maybe there is someone who matches you better than Harry, and they just haven't signed up."

"You're so reasonable," Liam said. He polished off the end of the cheese toastie. "It's just terrible."

"I know, pet. You're off work tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Liam said.

"Okay. Brez wants to stay, then. He's decided it's his job to make sure Harry can't come in if he comes to chase after you, so he might just sleep on the sofa." Niall sounded fond.

"Oh, he doesn't have to—I mean I'm not scared of Harry." Liam thought about it. "Also, Harry's got bodyguards almost as big as Brez."

"Eh, he's got his disgusting alpha scent all over everything by now." Niall patted Liam on the arm. "You're safe. We've got you."

"Thanks, mate," Liam said softly.

"Always."

* * *

In the morning, Brez was still out in the living room, watching the rugby. "Morning," Liam said. "You didn't sleep out here, did you?" Niall had said he might, but that sofa didn't look big enough. Hell, Niall's bed didn't look big enough either.

"No, I was in with young lad. You just slept late." Bressie tilted his head. "How are you?"

Liam smiled; it didn't feel totally fake. "Better," he said. "Thanks for staying over."

"I make a pretty good doorstop," Brez said neutrally. "Glad not to be needed, though."

"Yes, thanks," Liam said again. "Can I get you some breakfast?"

Brez smiled faintly at him. "Best let Niall handle it."

True enough: there'd be more complaining, but Niall was handy with a skillet. Liam agreed and headed for the shower, where he found himself wanting to try to wash off the last few months of the relationship. That was no way to do things, though. It had been good overall, and he couldn't end up with every person he dated, and he'd got the chance to do music again. So, all in all, a success.

Still sucked, though.

He ate bacon butties with Niall in the kitchen, then headed to work, where he did his best to avoid Suzie who would surely ask about Harry again. Unsuccessfully, unfortunately. "Plans with the mister again tomorrow?" she said, sticking her head under the table where Liam was replacing a finicky connector.

"Flatmate time," Liam said. He felt bad about lying, but he really didn't want to get into it right now. "Niall's been feeling neglected."

"You're a good friend," she said. "I wouldn't give up that tall drink of water for anything."

Liam's chest hurt.

She held out his mobile, which he'd left on the table above him. "Anyway, you've got some texts from Harry-smiley-face. Thought you'd want to answer."

"Thanks!" Liam said as brightly as he could. The mobile, when he took it, only displayed the number of texts and not their content, thank goodness.

_I'd still like to keep seeing you_ , the first one read, _but if you don't want to, I hope we can still be friends in the future._ Then a few minutes later, _And if you need any advice on the biz I am still happy to help._

_I hope so toooooo,_ Liam texted back in response to the first, then, _but I need some time._ He didn't respond to the second one at all, because he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to ask for that.

The reply came swiftly, but it just said, _I understand._

When his phone rang a couple of minutes later, Liam expected it to be Harry, but instead it was a number he didn't know. "Hello?" he said, scrambling out from under the table so his reception wouldn't be so shit.

"Hello, is this Liam Payne?"

"Yes," Liam said.

"Great. This is Amy, from Haysworth's? We were wondering if you wanted to come play for us a bit, we've got an opening for, well, an opener."

"Oh," Liam said, at a loss. "Yes?"

"Great! Can you be here on Thursday?"

"Um, before four o'clock, yes ma'am," Liam said.

He could hear the ghost of a laugh—but it felt weird to say something other than "ma'am" for what was essentially a business meeting. "Shall we say two, then?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful," Liam said. He went through the motions of saying goodbye and then hung up and stood there, staring at the phone in his hand. Until that moment, he wasn't sure anything had felt real, but now, maybe...maybe he'd be a performer again.

* * *

* * *

Harry held still as the makeup artist brushed powder across his cheek. At least he wasn't breaking out so badly for this round of album promo; he wondered if a year mostly off from makeup had helped. He'd be finding out in a couple of months, he supposed. 

Hard to believe he'd been free for nine months already. He'd asked for a year off touring and he'd had it; it felt like hardly any time at all. Even if the year hadn't been quite what he expected. He hadn't known what to do with himself at the beginning. Then he'd decided on matchmaking, and then he'd met Liam, and then he'd thought Liam would be with him for the rest of the year, and then— 

Well. Guess he'd been wrong about some of that.

He'd written some good songs in the last week, though he wasn't sure yet if he could stand to put them on the album. He could give them to Liam, he guessed; he and Louis were still working on the demo, though Louis had offered to side with Harry. That would probably be weird, though, to have Liam singing songs about a breakup he was part of, and Liam still wasn't talking to him. Harry had to resist the urge to ask Louis how he was doing every day; Louis didn't deserve to be caught between them, just because Harry had fucked up.

As if on cue, Harry's phone beeped with Louis's ringtone. The makeup artist frowned critically at his work then sat back. "Go ahead," he said. 

_Things are a go at Haysworths !_

_Great! Tell him congrats._

_Tell him yourself_

Harry glanced at the door—no sign of wardrobe yet. He opened his text conversation with Liam, silent since the request for some time. He supposed this was probably a good enough reason to start it up again, though. _Congratulations on the meeting!_ Harry thumbed into his phone, then paused. Well. If this wasn't a time for it, what was? He finished with _Harry x_ and sent it off. He tucked his phone away as the wardrobe people came back in from whatever conference they'd been having; there were some things that couldn't wait on a broken heart.

* * *

At first Liam couldn't find Niall in the dark pub, but he eventually spotted him at a table in the corner, with his chair settled very close to Laura Whitmore's. Well, Liam wouldn't pry; that had never ended well for him. He pulled out one of the empty chairs and flopped down. "'Lo," he said. "Good to see you, Laura."

"Congratulations, mate," Niall said, sliding a beer across the table to him.

"Oh, you didn't have to—"

"We didn't get to celebrate yet. So, here's to Liam, Britain's next big pop star."

Liam grinned. "Still a long way to go to that, Nialler."

"We've all heard you sing and we don't have a doubt in our heads," Laura chimed in. "You should hire Niall for your band when you get one. Get him out o' radio."

Liam looked at Niall, surprised. "You want out?"

"Laura just wants more famous arm candy," Niall said, with a cheeky grin. Laura laughed at him and mussed his hair. "I'm happy with the radio and open mic nights. I'd tell you if I wasn't."

"Good," Liam said.

"But maybe now you won't drag me to karaoke," Niall added.

"You love karaoke!" Liam said, outraged, and Niall opened his eyes wide and shook his head slowly. "Aw, you should've said something."

Niall shrugged. "Payback for the duets at open mic night."

"You didn't need to pay me back for that," Liam said anxiously.

"Shut your gob and drink your beer, you need to catch up," said Niall. 

Dutifully, Liam drank his beer. And the next two, bought for him by various members of the LIC who were drifting in and out over time—they'd taken over another nearby table and kept switching out who was sitting where. Liam was glad he didn't have to keep track of them, because that would be hard even sober, and three beers in he definitely wasn't.

He was deep in a conversation about crisp flavours and the superiority of cheese and onion when he realised one of the accents around him wasn't Irish and looked up to find himself sitting next to Nick Grimshaw.

"Hiya!" Nick said cheerfully when he saw Liam looking. "You're not Irish."

"Neither are you," Liam said.

"Yes, but Annie declared me honorary for the evening so we could join you all for a pint." 

Annie? Liam thought. Oh—the curly hair at the end of the table was Annie Mac. Of course. She wasn't part of the LIC, as far as Liam knew, but she came along sometimes anyway.

Nick looked at the beer in front of Liam. "If I'd known I could just show up I wouldn't have promised to drink Guinness."

The rest of the table jeered.

"And I'm definitely not painting my toenails green now," he said directly to Annie, who laughed. "How'd they let you in, anyway?"

"I live with Niall," Liam said, nodding at him.

"Oh right! Assistant Producer Niall," Nick said, nodding knowingly. "We talked about this, didn't we? That first night at Harry's."

"Yeah," Liam said. "Um—he's not showing up tonight, is he?"

"It'll be a surprise to both of us if he is," Nick said. He leaned closer and said quietly, just for Liam, "You don't have to be scared of him. He's not mad or anything, and he likes to stay friends with people."

"I know, he said," Liam said. "Thanks. I'm just not ready yet."

"Okay." Nick leaned back and started talking louder again. "So you both did Fortnam & Chapel together as flatmates?" he said.

Liam frowned at him. "No, just me. I think?"

"Six months or an engagement," Niall said from across the table, waggling his eyebrows. "No sir."

"What'd you do with that invitation I gave you, then?" Nick says. "They only gave me five. I was intending to buy favours with them. How am I supposed to have an in with Annie's show if you didn't even use it?"

"Niall's loyal to me, aren't you, Niall," Annie called.

"Yes'm," Niall said. He pointed at Liam. "Gave the invite to him, didn't I. He'll put up with that romantic nonsense."

Liam pointedly did not mention the way he'd migrated half into Laura's lap. "That's funny," he said.

Nick looked at Liam speculatively. "What?"

"You gave the invitation to Niall, then? To sign up?" Nick nodded. Liam wasn't too surprised—he knew those firms often asked alphas to scout likely omegas for them. Otherwise they ended up too unbalanced. Nick seemed the wrong sort to be scouting omegas, but maybe the fact that he had so many omega friends made a difference. "Okay. And then I got set up with Harry, one of your good friends. That's pretty weird, right?"

Nick blinked at him. "Huh. Guess so."

"At least it got the tabs off your bum about being friends with him," Liam said. "Implying, you know."

"Did you just say 'off my bum' like we're a couple of nans?" Nick said delightedly.

"I don't know what your nan said, mate," Liam said. "Mine would never be so crass."

"Watch what you say about my nan!" Nick said.

Annie Mac's hoarse laugh came rippling down the table. "Grim, this is easily the weirdest fight you've had all week," she said, "and I heard you trying to convince Fifi that Lady Gaga would make prettier babies with Joe Jonas than Nick Jonas."

"Definitely Nick Jonas, what were you thinking?" Liam said to Nick, and got a five-minute impassioned rant. 

Beer #4 plunked down in front of him—Guinness this time, when he tasted it. That's what he got for talking to Nick Grimshaw, he supposed. He raised a hand in thanks to—oh, that was Niall again, Liam hadn't noticed him getting up.

"You're gonna play Liam's songs, right?" Niall said to Nick, interrupting something about eyebrows.

"They're Louis's songs, too," Liam said, but they both ignored him.

Nick brightened. "Oh yeah, I heard you're making a go of it!" he said. "Sure. Sure. If Producer Vic lets me."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I know just how much you'll let your producers stop you."

"It's really not fair that you're friends with Finchy," Nick grumbled.

Liam didn't totally understand what they were talking about but he just sank into the buzz, enjoying the company. Even though it felt strange to be talking to Nick without Harry there. Harry was warm and funny and supported what Liam wanted, and he missed that. But he wasn't doing so badly for himself, he realised; sometime between moving to London and now he'd got himself some friends he really liked, a job he enjoyed, and maybe now he'd be getting back into his own music too.

It was enough.

* * *

Once he'd got Imogen the new intern set up with some microphones and a soundboard, Liam excused himself to a quiet corner and took out his mobile. He was only at the venue to supervise her, so he didn't feel all that bad about making a call instead of something more productive. 

Louis picked up on the third ring. "Hi, Liam."

"Could've been someone else using my phone," Liam said.

"You've got an actual random password and you never forget it anywhere," Louis said.

"How d'you know it's random?"

Louis crowed. "A good guess!"

Liam frowned at himself. He hadn't meant to give that away, really, though he wasn't sure why it mattered. "I was calling to talk about that song we worked on last week, after the meeting?"

"As opposed to all the other times we met last week?"

Sometimes it seemed he could never say anything right around Louis. Although things were definitely changing, if he was able to make this phone call at all, and think Louis would listen to him, and think Louis would approve of what he had to say. He wanted to make the effort to be friends with Louis; the songs they wrote together sounded so good. "Okay," he said. "Um. Have you finalised the demo yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay. I think we should do something different for the chorus, actually, so could you wait until our next meeting?"

"The chorus is great. Why do you want to change the chorus?"

Liam leaned his head against the wall. "I think the verses are so, like, up and down that maybe the chorus should do that less."

"Monotone chorus, sounds great," Louis said sarcastically, but—somehow—Liam could tell he was listening anyway.

"Not totally monotone. We can keep the chords and the rhythm and stuff, but like, maybe just sing the first line all on the first note? And maybe we could change some other things but that's the big one."

Louis hummed it to himself. "Maybe," he said after a brief pause. "I'll have you lay it down on Monday and we can try it."

"Okay," Liam said. "Thanks, Louis."

"It's your record," he said, and Liam thought he meant to sound like he was rolling his eyes but Liam could tell he was smiling. When had that happened? "See you then."

* * *

Liam wasn't surprised, exactly, when Louis showed up to his birthday party—he'd invited him, after all. On the other hand, he also hadn't really expected him to turn up. Maybe his being friends plan was working better than he'd thought.

Niall, Laura and Bressie were caterwauling their way through some Britney Spears, and Andy, who'd come to London for the weekend, had just wandered back with a tray full of beers. Louis shoved his way onto the bench seat like he was one of the gang and grabbed the song listing with one hand and a beer with the other, after quirking an eyebrow at Andy to check that that was all right. "Happy birthday, Liam," he said. "What are we singing?"

"Oh, we do all sorts," Liam said.

Louis raised his eyebrows. "No. We, specifically. The two of us. You're going to duet with everyone here, aren't you?"

"Oh!" Liam said. "That's a good idea, actually."

Louis nodded as though this were the bare minimum of the praise he deserved. "So pick something, or else you're getting Grease."

"I like Grease."

Louis stared at Liam. "Well, then."

"Okay," Liam said. He elbowed Suzie from the front office gently in the ribs. "What're we singing, Suze?"

"Anything that lets me be mute."

Louis looked vaguely offended that somebody else had come up with that line, and covered by chatting to Suzie for five minutes straight.

Liam was surprised by how well Louis fit in with the group, actually. He'd been intimidated by Louis for long enough that he was surprised when other people weren't, even though Liam wasn't intimidated any more either. He'd spent enough time with Louis to tell his moods apart, so he could tell when Louis was joking. Sometimes. He didn't know if Louis was being nicer to everyone than he'd been to Liam at first, or if everyone was faster than Liam at figuring him out.

Later in the evening, Louis said, "Do you want to be Sandy or Danny?"

"What?" Liam said.

"Never mind, you be Danny," Louis said. "Nobody would believe _I_ could rescue _you_ from drowning."

That sounded almost like a compliment, but Liam didn't have time to think about it because the "Summer Nights" had started playing and Louis was dragging Liam up to the microphone. Liam tried to remember if Louis had ever touched him like that before, more than a slap on the shoulder or a probably-joking pinch, and couldn't come up with anything. Then Louis was shoving the microphone in his face and Liam started singing.

Nobody was listening to them, too many drinks in, but it was fun anyway. They'd built up a good working relationship over the last few months and it was easy to translate into good timing and easy harmonies. It was nice to sing with someone who could keep up with him like that—Niall could too, but he usually let Liam sing solo. And Louis clearly loved the song. Liam would have to ask him about that later.

Louis clapped Liam on the back when they were done, then yelled "Happy Birthday!" loud enough that most of the rest of the group joined in.

"Thanks, that was fun," Liam said as they sat down to let Andy take a turn with another Coldplay track. Louis just smiled at him, big and honest—maybe the most honest smile Liam had ever got out of him. He looked so good when he smiled like that; Liam would have to try to make it happen more.

* * *

* * *

Harry jumped when he heard a voice right by his ear. He realised it was Nick in time to understand the sentence, though: "I really wish rabbits made a noise." 

He turned so he could look Nick in the eye. "Why do you wish rabbits made a noise?"

"Your basket's full of lettuce an' that," Nick said, "and if it was milk I would moo at you or something, but I'm not sure what noise rabbits make."

Harry shrugged. "So I like salads."

"Weirdo," Nick teased.

"You're a weirdo," Harry said. "What kind of crisps are those again?"

"They're tomato ketchup, and they're lovely."

"Might as well get chips if that's what you want."

Nick looked horrified. "Like I'd put anything but vinegar on my chips. _Really_ , Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Right. I was just heading to the meats, you wanna walk with me?"

"Sure." Nick straightened up a little. "Lead on."

Harry turned on his heel as militarily as he could and marched for the meats section. Nick fell into step beside him. "What have you been up to?" Harry said.

"The usual," Nick said. "You?"

"Just fulfilling my duties as future of the music industry."

"Right."

"You've got a lot of food in your basket," Harry observed.

Nick sniffed. "I don't survive on air alone."

"You usually survive on takeaway," Harry said. "Or your friends cooking for you"—he gestured to himself—"but you usually let 'em bring the groceries. What's up?"

Nick looked down for a brief moment, which made Harry rapidly more interested. "Got a date, haven't I," he said finally. "Gonna cook him dinner and everything."

"Hey, great!" Harry said, grinning and slapping Nick on the shoulder. "How'd you meet?"

"Er, club."

"So you already—"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Harry," Nick chided.

"Then you kissed him or there'd be nothing to not tell, right?"

"That's actually a good point, I'd never thought of that," Nick said. "Anyway, I don't suppose you can talk me through making pasta?"

"Yeah, gimme a call if you have trouble."

"Cool." Nick shifted the basket to his other hand as they got to the counter. "How about you, anything new on the romance front? Or are you going to be off doing your own thing now that I'm not available for you to annoy with stories of your conquests since I've one of my own?"

"Signed up for Fortnam & Chapel again," Harry said, trying to decide between chicken and pork sausage.

"Sorry, what?"

Harry looked up—right, this seemed to be something people were remarking on. "Gemma was surprised by that, too," he said. "Dunno why, it worked pretty well before."

"For a while," Nick said. "Then it was shit—no offence, love, but I gained like half a stone from the sympathy ice cream."

"You never. Anyway, how's that different from most relationships?"

Nick shrugged. "Dunno, I guess. It just seems strange that you're trying it again, that's all."

"Yeah." Harry rolled his shoulders, easing his back. "Why are you all so opposed to it, anyway?"

"Gemma's your sister, ask her."

"That would definitely involve the phrase 'for your own good'."

Nick snorted. "Older sisters."

"Yep."

"Dunno," Nick said again. "It just seems really, like, old-fashioned for you."

"I like old-fashioned."

"For people, though?" Nick said. "You attract all kinds of, like, unusual people. It's hard to see how a matchmaker would do that by matching you up on, like, how many kids do you think you should have."

"That's important, too, though." Harry turned to look at Nick full on; he wanted to make sure Nick understood. "If you're making a life together, you should both want the same things out of that life, you know?"

"Maybe," Nick said.

"Also, Liam _was_ special."

"Sure," Nick said. Harry had the feeling he didn't quite agree, but as long as he didn't say it, Harry wouldn't hold it against him. "So you're sure this is what you want, then?"

Harry tilted his head. "Sure enough, I think. I mean—if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out, you know?"

"Okay." Nick nodded. "Fair enough. You wanna pick your meat, then, before we have to fend off an angry crowd of carnivorous mothers?"

"Pick my meat could be a synonym for—" Harry tilted his head, and Nick laughed.

"All right. Do that, and then teach me how to cook pasta."

"Okay," Harry said, turning back to the sausages. "First you'll need some cottage cheese—"

"Some _what?!_ "

* * *

* * *

"So, is this the typical Payno working meal?" Louis kicked his feet up onto the empty chair next to Liam. "Chips whilst completely sober?"

"You're drinking a beer," Liam said. "Shouldn't we be sober for writing, anyway?"

Louis tilted his head and looked at Liam. It was weirdly theatrical—Louis often seemed like he was performing for some sort of invisible audience, Liam thought. But for once it didn't seem like he was criticising Liam. "You're really like that," he said.

"What?" Liam said.

"I wasn't sure if it was an act for Harry. You're really that, like, rule-abiding."

"Not always." 

"Right," Louis said sceptically. He threw a chip at Liam's face; Liam caught it at the last minute and Louis grinned at him, feral. "At least you've got good reflexes. Maybe we can make something out of you after all."

Louis was mentoring him as a writer, that was true, but— "You're not that much older than me," Liam said. "Maybe I'm the one who should be—"

"No," Louis said, though he was smiling.

"I didn't even finish the sentence!"

"Whatever you were going to say, don't," Louis said. "I'm absolutely perfect the way I am, Liam."

"Right." Liam ate a few more chips in silence before deciding to ask the other question on his mind. "Do you think I'll ever make an album, or is this just stuff for me to sing live for the next few years until I get bored of it?"

Louis looked thoughtful for a moment. It struck Liam that he usually didn't see Louis being still. Finally Louis tapped his hand on the table and said, "Nothing's guaranteed, and most people don't make an album ever. Or they self-produce and sell it at shows, but I don't think that's what you were asking about, was it?"

Liam shook his head.

"Okay. Well, you've got a better than average chance. You look like David Beckham, you can sing, and the songs are good, though that's mostly me." 

"I helped," Liam said. "Also, you could've put the singing ability first."

"Do you want my advice or not?" Louis said sharply, but his eyes had gone a bit crinkly and his mouth was tilting up at the edges. "And you've got me to help out, by the way. I'm coming along if any labels want to meet with you. We should do good cop bad cop, that's always fun. Bagsy bad cop. No, good cop, it'll be fun to watch you playing bad cop. No, bad cop, you'd never pull it off and if we get you a bad contract Harry will never let me live it down." Louis popped a chip in his mouth.

Liam's heart started pounding at the mention of Harry's name.

Louis seemed to notice, or maybe he just finished the chip unusually fast. "No. Good cop bad cop is a stupid idea. I think what should happen—in this hypothetical meeting that you're guaranteed to get—is that I should talk," he gestured to himself, "and you should sit there absolutely silently." He waved his hands at Liam like he was trying to indicate (and judge) his entire person.

"Can I lean over to your ear sometimes like I'm giving you inscrutable commentary?" Liam said.

"I do love a bit of theatre." Louis grinned at him, showing off his sharp little teeth. "But I don't think they'd believe that. You look too nice."

"Thanks," Liam said.

"Okay. I've got a real game plan now," Louis said. "You just say the stuff you want, and if they say no I'll yell at them until they give in."

Liam thought that through. "That sounds like it would work."

"Thank you, Liam." Louis beamed at him again. "Finish your chips and we'll write a song that will make you the target of the largest bidding war this industry has ever seen!"

"I'd settle for my own show," Liam said. He finished his chips. When Louis told you to do things, he'd found, it was best if you just said yes.

* * *

October was definitely cold enough for Harry to cuddle under a blanket whilst calling his mum, he thought. Especially because she always made him feel like that, tucked-in and safe.

He got an update on Robin, and an update on Holmes Chapel, and an update on the cat. He always let his mum talk first: there was something grounding about hearing about her life, the place he'd grown up, all that stuff. Even if he'd moved away to London earlier than everyone expected, and even though he loved it, he couldn't help missing that life a little, too.

"Gemma tells me you're doing another date through Fortnam & Chapel," she said, which signalled the change from talking about her life to talking about his, he supposed.

"Yeah, I've got the family visit in two weeks."

"Do you know anything about the person yet?"

"Her name's Amber," Harry said. "She's American so it's not a real family visit, it'll be her flatmates."

"That sounds nice," she said.

"Who knows, maybe they'll hate me."

Anne scoffed. "Who would hate my baby?"

"Mum," he said. "Don't be embarrassing." He pressed his face into the side of the blanket. It was nice to hear, though.

"It's not embarrassing to think you're wonderful," she said. "Since you are."

"You don't have to talk about it so much, though."

"Let me brag!" she said brightly. "I think I turned out a pretty good pair of kids. Excellent parenting and genes."

"Okay," Harry said. "I mean, you're pretty cool yourself, so."

She laughed and Harry smiled helplessly against the fabric of his blanket.

"Well, I hope it all turns out really well for you, baby," she said.

"Thanks, mum," Harry said. He wasn't going to lie, after Gemma's reaction, and Nick's, and even Louis's neutrality, he was happy someone was happy for him.

"How's everyone else?" she said. "All your friends?"

"Liam got a gig," he said first off. Then his eyes widened. Shit, he probably shouldn't have led with that.

"Oh, that's wonderful! Are you talking again now, then?" she asked carefully.

Harry bit his lip before answering. "Louis told me. They're still writing together."

"Oh, all right," she said. "Louis's doing well, then?"

"Yeah, he's good. We're still writing for the album and stuff. We're on the last few songs now, they want everything set by the end of the month."

"Good. I love that you and Gemma are getting to do things that make you happy. Writing, making music. All these wonderful things."

Harry nodded; he knew his mum couldn't see him, but it helped him be an active listener, he thought. "It would be nice to be closer to you, too, though," he said, thinking of that house in the country with his spouse and his kids that he'd always pictured.

"I'd love to get to see you more," Anne said. "But you don't have to make the same choices I made. I love that you're both so happy in London."

"You did a good job with us, though. You said."

"That doesn't mean it's the only way to do it." She sighed. "Have you been worried about this, love?"

"No. I just, like. I was really happy as a kid and I want that for my kids, too."

"You've grown into a wonderful young man, and I'm sure you'll be a wonderful dad, too. But you should do that where you're the most fulfilled, love. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

Shit, was he going to cry in his living room covered with a blanket? "Thanks, Mum," he said.

"Just so we're clear, though, you being happy had better involve grandchildren for me," she said teasingly.

Harry laughed. It was only a little bit teary. "Of course."

"Good. I'll talk to you soon, then, love?"

"Yeah, Mum. Love you. Bye."

"Love you!" she said, and hung up.

* * *

* * *

Liam was trying to remotely guide Imogen the intern through a tricky bit of practice wiring when his phone beeped with a call on the other line. He checked and it was Louis—probably not a death in his family, then, unless Louis had been up to things without telling Liam, which admittedly he often was—so he finished talking her through the last few steps and then called him back.

"Leemo," Louis said. 

"Tommo," Liam said, before Louis could get anything else in. It was best to interrupt his rhythm, Liam had found, if he wanted to say anything at all in the conversation.

"Right," Louis said. He cleared his throat. "You said you wanted to watch me finish up that demo, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I was going to do that tonight," Louis said. "I haven't eaten tea yet—have you?"

Liam's heart was beating suddenly in his ears. "No," he said.

"Do you want to get some, then? I'm finishing up at the studio right now but you're on my way to the restaurant, so I could pick you up and we could eat and then work at my place. Or I could just pick you up afterwards if you're not hungry."

"Yeah, dinner sounds good."

"Great, I'll be there in half an hour," Louis said.

They said their goodbyes, and Liam stood there staring at his phone for a bit before he walked over to Niall's room and knocked on the open door. "Louis just asked me to dinner."

Niall looked up from his laundry. "Like, asked you to dinner, or asked you _out_ to dinner?"

"I don't know!"

"Which one do you want it to be, then?"

Liam considered. They'd been seeing each other more lately, and he'd noticed some kind of attraction, definitely, but— "Um, the second one?" he said. He was probably blushing a little.

"Right," Niall said. "Well, let's dress you up. Then he'll want to ask next time even if he didn't mean it this time." He laughed at the look on Liam's face. "Yes, I hear you, you don't think you're that fit. You are. Come on, let's find you a shirt."

Liam let Niall drag him back into his bedroom and they sorted through his closet before deciding on a red plaid shirt and a pair of jeans a little tighter than Liam normally wore. "It's a tad lumberjack," Niall said, "but let's be honest, if he's not into that you've got no shot." Niall fluffed up his hair too—it was getting a bit long, but that meant Liam could gel it up in a quiff. 

Liam helped Niall fold laundry in thanks until Louis texted him that he was downstairs, and then he grabbed his jacket and ran down and into the car. 

"Hey," he said, closing the door behind him.

Louis didn't say anything for a brief moment—Liam probably wouldn't have noticed with anybody else, but Louis always talked so much—and then said, "Hey. You hungry?"

"....Yes?" Liam said. He'd already answered that.

"Great," Louis said, and took off. 

"Did you record anything good today?"

"Laid down Harry's vocals with Julian," he said. "They're going to do the strings at Abbey Road, it'll be sick."

"Wow!" Liam said. His phone buzzed in his hand—Imogen. "Excuse me a moment," he said, "intern flying solo tonight," and picked up to walk her through something else that turned out not to be a problem after all. He didn't regret offering to help her with some practical tasks, although he did regret that she needed it on a night he'd be hanging out with Louis.

Whilst they were stopped at a light, Louis texted a bit. Liam didn't approve, but he couldn't say that and talk to Imogen at the same time, so he let it slide. By the time he was off the phone, though, it was clear that they were headed back in the direction of the studio. "Er, I thought the restaurant was," Liam started, but didn't know how to finish.

"Change of plans," Louis said lightly. He turned onto a street Liam hadn't been on before and found a parking spot. It was a nicer restaurant than Liam had expected from him. So it was a date, then. And maybe Liam had made it happen—change of plans and all. As they filed through the door into the restaurant, he focused on the back of Louis's neck, where his hair was feathery and soft at the ends. 

"Two under Tomlinson," Louis told the host, who took them to a quiet table at the back. 

Louis didn't try to hold his chair out or anything, thank goodness, and the menu, when Liam looked at it, wasn't the fancy food Harry preferred, full of vegetables Liam had never heard of, but rather nice-looking versions of things Liam remembered his mum cooking. "This looks good," Liam said.

Louis smiled at him, the kind of chuffed smile Liam had only recently seen on him, not the manic grin he got when he was being a little monster like he was sometimes. "Haven't been here in a while," he said, "but the food's excellent."

"Great," Liam said. He turned the page to the drinks list. He was aware of Louis's eyes flicking up to him far more than they did normally. "Are we drinking?"

"Are we drinking," Louis said with an eyeroll. "I'll have one. You have as many as you want."

"Sounds great." Liam looked up and met Louis's eyes, and Louis's smile got just a hint broader. All right, then. Liam's eyes scanned the menu and spotted an opportunity for conversation. "Oh—that's from Doncaster. That's where you're from, right?"

"Obviously," Louis said. Fair enough, he did talk about it a lot. "And Wolverhampton, right? And you've mentioned sisters?"

Liam nodded. "Two older ones. Nicola and Ruth."

"Five younger," Louis said, "and a younger brother too."

"Wow!" Liam said.

Louis held up his hands, fists closed. "Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy, Phoebe, Doris, and Ernest," he said, raising a finger for each. "Two sets of twins. Doris and Ernest are the youngest, they're four. My mom really likes kids."

"That's okay, I do too," Liam said. "Although, um. Maybe not quite that much."

Louis smiled at him so his eyes got all crinkly at the corners, and Liam felt his pulse racing again. "So, are you drinking the Doncaster beer, then?" Louis said. Liam was grateful for the topic change—he did want kids, but it felt weird to talk about it on a first date. "I'll be very offended if you don't, by the way, since you pointed it out and all."

"Well, I'll be drinking that, then," Liam said. "Wouldn't want you to be offended."

"And yet you wore that shirt," Louis said.

Liam sat up straighter. "What's wrong with—"

"You're over there looking all fit, and being nice to me, and stuff. That's offensive, is what that is."

"Oh," Liam said. "Uh, thanks. I mean, you also look good."

"My 'long day at work' chic is working for you, then?" Louis said.

Luckily, the waitress came back before Liam had to answer. Hearing Louis on his best behaviour, smiling and chatting, asking questions about the menu without the usual theatricality or practical jokes—it was weirdly hot. Liam liked the Louis he usually got, but Louis being the proud alpha out on a date was nice, too.

"Think she'd notice if we switched seats?" Louis said when she was gone.

"What?" Liam said.

"If we switched seats. Would I get the Donny beer and you get the Stella? Does she remember our faces or our chairs?"

"I don't know."

"That was an invitation to do the experiment," Louis said. "I have to run to the toilets, you take my seat and I'll take yours when I get back. That's less obvious than if we just stand up and switch seats."

"Okay," Liam said dubiously.

Louis raised his eyebrows suggestively—about the joke, not sexually, Liam thought—and took off for the back corner of the restaurant. Liam looked around to make sure the waitress was still back in the kitchen—wouldn't do to screw up Louis's prank—and then walked quickly around the table to his chair.

A problem quickly revealed itself. Well, not exactly a problem. Louis had left his jacket on his chair, and now Liam was sitting next to it and its residual alpha pheromones. He wasn't close to his heat so his sense of smell wasn't as good as it could be, and he wasn't going to pop a boner just from the scent, but...he was going to get a little turned on just sitting here. Some alphas did that on purpose, Liam knew, leave things that smelt like them around so that the omega they wanted would learn their scent, but Louis didn't seem like the type to do that. He'd probably just forgotten. 

Louis slid into Liam's old seat. "Has she come back yet?"

"No," Liam said.

"Good, good." Louis folded his hands on the table and smiled at Liam.

"Have you tried this before?" 

Louis grinned, looking pleased that Liam had noticed. "Yep. They figure it out about half the time."

"Ah," Liam said.

"With Harry though," Louis said. "Not with, like." He gestured between them.

Dates, right. Liam was a little touched that Louis didn't want him to feel like one of a crowd. "Right," he said, smiling back so Louis would know he'd got it. "We don't look that much alike, I'm sure she'll notice."

"You'd be surprised," Louis said. "I tried with Lottie once and they didn't notice."

"Wow," Liam said. "How old is she? Do you look much alike?"

"Nineteen. She works with Lou Teasdale—have you met her yet?"

"Harry's friend, right." Louis blinked a bit—yeah, Liam forgot he'd dated Harry sometimes too. Too strange to think about. "Wait, the blonde assistant with the big eyes? That's your sister?"

Louis grinned so wide his eyes almost hid in the crinkles. He was so cute. "Yes! That's her."

"I didn't really speak to her," Liam said.

"You probably would've been able to tell. She's a lot like me."

"Is the whole family?" Liam said. "Do people have to walk around your house covering their nipples at all times?" Then he kicked himself mentally. Nipples! On the first date!

But Louis just laughed. Evilly, but he laughed.

When the waitress came back she gave Louis the right beer. Louis frowned unhappily and shot a look over at Liam, who shrugged and smiled. Partners in crime after all, then. Liam had never imagined it would be anything else.

* * *

"Definitely with the trumpets," Harry said, nodding.

Julian frowned. "I'm not sure," he said. "I think it's better without?"

"Take it to Louis?" he said.

Julian shook his head. "Take it to John."

"But John likes you better than me," Harry said with his most charming grin.

Julian grinned wolfishly right back. "Yes he does."

"Ganged up on by my own production team," Harry grumbled. He grabbed his coat. "Thanks, Julian."

"That's what you hired me for!" he said, and saluted as Harry walked out the door.

Down the street, Liam and Louis were sitting in an outdoor cafe, laughing together. It was disorientating. He'd last seen Liam in a garden in Regent's Park. Both Liam and Louis, together, had been longer ago than that—writing songs in his living room. Everything since then had been filtered through Louis. And here they were, turned into each other—he knew they'd gone on a date but he hadn't been brave enough to imagine what that was like, how they'd be together. But he wasn't sure he could have imagined how easy they'd be together, or, rather, how easy Liam would be with Louis. Until that moment, Harry had wondered if Liam was just telling a comforting lie when he said he couldn't imagine himself with Harry, but Liam had never looked that relaxed with him, not ever.

What else had Harry missed?

Liam saw him first and his eyes opened in shock for just a moment. Then he sat up straighter and grinned at Harry, and Harry relaxed. He raised a hand in greeting and walked down towards them. "Afternoon," he said when he was close enough that he wasn't yelling it.

"Harry," Louis said, tense and on alert. Harry smiled at him, too. He wasn't mad, really, and they'd talked about it already. But he supposed he understood why Louis was nervous.

"Hey." Harry shoved his hands deeper in his coat pockets. "Um, everything going well, then?" There was no way to make this not-awkward, but he did want to talk to them. It was good to see Liam happy, and...and it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. Not still in love with him, then. It wasn't all gone, but it was...okay, for now.

"Yeah, we've got a couple of tracks beyond the demo," Liam said. 

That hadn't really been what Harry was asking about, but he didn't know if Liam knew he knew. Or maybe Liam just didn't want to talk about it in front of him. "Glad to hear it," he said. "I should let you get to it, then?"

"Yeah," Louis said. He raised his eyebrows at Harry, and then smiled at Liam. Louis, at least, looked happier than he had since he'd broken up with Eleanor.

"Good to see you," Harry said. He raised a hand again.

"You too," Liam said.

"Just get out of here already, Jesus," Louis said, with a sharp little smile.

Harry rolled his eyes and walked on. He didn't even feel the need to look and see if they watched him go.

* * *

* * *

"Hello," Louis said.

"Hi," Brez said.

They eyed each other like they were sizing each other up for a fight. Louis was Liam's alpha, and of course Liam was loyal, but there was definitely a part of Liam's mind that was picturing this as a chihuahua facing up to a Saint Bernard and finding him wanting. Brez had about a foot on Louis and his shoulders were the size of two of Louis at least.

Liam knew Bressie was harmless, but he didn't look it, and this wasn't the first time Liam had seen him leverage that to see how somebody Liam was dating would react. He'd half adopted Liam when he and Niall officially became a thing (although Liam still hoped nobody ever asked him to explain what kind of thing, because he still didn't get it). Liam didn't have any doubt Louis would pass, though, even if it was funny to see him behaving like that. Like Harry, he wasn't a stereotypical alpha in a lot of ways. Though he had the ordering Liam around thing down, which Liam liked, frankly.

"Shame the Blizzards broke up," Louis said.

Bressie blinked down at him. "Uh. Thanks?"

Louis nodded and came over to sit down next to Liam on the sofa.

Behind him, Brez gave Liam a look that seemed to say, _Seriously_? Liam just smiled at Louis.

"Did you do research before officially meeting my flatmate's boyfriend?" Liam said quietly into his ear when Brez had disappeared into the kitchen to help Niall finish cooking.

"Of course not, how silly," Louis said with his most exaggeratedly innocent expression.

"Thank you," Liam said, leaning in for a kiss.

"No problem." Louis grinned at him. "You promised me food if I behaved myself."

Liam frowned. "I don't think I said it quite like that."

"Yes, but I heard you loud and clear."

Liam felt vaguely guilty. Was that really what Louis thought? "I didn't mean behave yourself," he said.

Louis grinned wider. "So you wanted me to behave badly? Because I can definitely do that too." He slid one hand up Liam's thigh, making Liam choke and think about ice cubes.

"No, I mean, like." Liam searched for words. "I don't think you ever behave badly."

"You clearly haven't known me long enough, then. Or I haven't been trying hard enough."

Liam frowned at him. "Stop that."

"It's fine, you can be diplomatic for both of us. Saint Liam." 

"I don't like it when you're mean to yourself."

"Well, for you, I'll try to stop."

"Thanks," Liam said, leaning into Louis's side for a moment.

"So just to check," Louis said, "this wasn't food in exchange for being nice, this was just actual free food?"

"Uh huh," Liam said. "Well, not free, I said we'd do the dishes."

"Score," Louis said, apparently unironically. "Point me to the kitchen."

Liam kissed him on the cheek, just to watch his eyes sparkle, and showed him in.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello, Prince of All He Surveys," Louis said.

Liam pulled the phone away from his head and stared at it for a moment, like it could reveal what Louis was up to. It couldn't. "Hi, Louis."

"I've been in touch with my strings guy about the thing," Louis said. "I have a strings guy, isn't that cool?"

"Is it the same strings guy as Julian used for Harry?" Liam said.

"Obviously not, Liam. It's _my_ strings guy. Julian had to get his own."

"Right," Liam said, and then, before Louis could start talking again, "I think you should come by."

"All right. Should I bring dinner with me?"

"No. Er." Liam swallowed. "Like we talked about a couple of weeks ago. I think you should come here right now."

"Wh—oh. Oh!" 

"Yeah," Liam said.

"Be right over," Louis said. He hung up before Liam could even say goodbye.

He made it over to Liam's place in less time than Liam thought it had ever taken him. When Liam opened the door, Louis was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little smaller than normal. He brightened up when he saw Liam. Liam could tell the moment when he caught Liam's scent, because his nostrils flared a little and he stepped forward, blocking the door. "Hi!" Liam said, stepping aside to let him in.

Louis was grinning by the time he stepped through the door. "Hi," he said. "You should've called me earlier."

"I was napping when it came on," Liam said sheepishly. "I'm okay, though." He was damp and feeling empty, but nothing too bad yet. 

Louis stepped into Liam's space, then pressed up on his toes to kiss him. And okay, maybe Liam should have called him earlier after all; one kiss and "damp" had to be upgraded. Liam wrapped his arms around Louis's waist and Louis responded in kind, one hand up under the hem of Liam's shirt on his lower back, and _shit_ that felt nice. Liam's dick was at attention now, unmistakable, and Louis was hardening obviously against his thigh. 

There were things Liam found annoying about his biology, but this...this was nice. Being this horny and knowing he was going to get what he wanted.

They separated with the kind of wet smack that made Liam glad all over again that Niall had already decamped for Bressie's place. Liam realised he had handfuls of Louis's shirt now, and it seemed a shame to let that go to waste, so he stripped the shirt up and off. Louis was laughing before the shirt made it above his shoulders. "Greedy boy," he said, not sounding at all put off by it.

He was gorgeous. Liam never got tired of it. Muscle down his shoulders and arms; stomach too, but with a little layer of fat that made Liam want to bury his face in it and kiss every bit. Or maybe bite. "Um, bedroom?" he said, eyes caught on Louis's nipples.

"Absolutely," Louis said. He put a hand on Liam's back to guide him along. It slipped down as they walked, pinky finger tucked under Liam's waistband, and it made Liam think of things and feel empty, empty, empty.

Not for long.

Liam unbuttoned his shirt as they walked down the hall, knocking a few pictures askew—he'd have to fix those before Niall came home—so he could let it fall off his shoulders as they got into the bedroom. Louis let him go only to bring his arms up around him from behind. Then Louis pressed his cheek into Liam's back. "You are so fit," he said, squeezing. "Look at you. This is disgusting, put it away."

"Er," Liam said.

"Obviously don't," Louis said. He kissed Liam's shoulder, then stood up straight and kissed the back of his neck. "Trousers off, let me see your arse."

"You're the one who needs to take your trousers off." Liam pushed the rest of his clothes off. He turned around and Louis stopped to look at him, leaning on the bed with his jeans tangled around the ankle of one leg and the knee of the other. 

"No, definitely you," Louis said. "Boxers too. Then get on the bed."

Liam felt like he ought to be annoyed by Louis's presumption, but there was something theatrical about it—like Louis expected to be obeyed, but also like he thought it was funny that he expected to be obeyed, and somehow Liam didn't mind it. He pushed his boxers off and crawled up onto the bed, and Louis managed to extricate himself and followed. He laid down on top of Liam's legs and Liam parted them to let him fall between, then panicked about it—was that right? was that presumptuous? could Louis smell him? Oh God, Louis could definitely smell him—but Louis didn't seem to mind. Instead he was concentrating on Liam's cock, very hard already from his heat, almost jumping with his pulse where it was lying engorged on his belly. 

"Now _that_ is a penis," Louis declared.

Liam laughed. "What?"

"Look at it, it's gorgeous."

"I always think they look a bit silly."

Louis flicked his eyes up at Liam, then back down. "Don't listen to him," he said quietly. "I don't want you to get low self-esteem, such a big beauty like you."

"Oh my God," Liam said, laughing again. "I'm an omega, it's not big."

"No, it's massive!" Louis said. He leaned up close to Liam's cock and crossed his eyes. "Look, I can't even focus on it." Louis grinned at Liam, showing off his sharp little teeth, and then stroked one finger up the already-wet cleft of Liam's arse. Liam let his legs flop out to the side so Louis had better access, all thoughts of modesty forgotten. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you," Louis said, quieter and concentrating. Liam couldn't tell if he meant Liam in general or Liam's dick specifically, but then he didn't care, because Louis covered the head of Liam's cock with his mouth and slid two fingers right into Liam's grasping body.

"Jesus— _Jesus!_ " Liam's back bent almost against his will, shoving his arse down on Louis's hand, but Louis just moved with him like he'd been expecting that. "Oh, God, Louis—"

He hadn't had that many heats with other people, but he hadn't forgotten what it was like. Filled up as soon as they were naked, a knotting that relieved the urge. This was different. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but he wasn't getting itchy with anticipation, either. It was like...a pause button. A nice pause button. Louis was working him over, getting him wet, like he wanted to make Liam come before he got knotted.

Actually, Liam thought, that might be exactly what he was up to.

Liam looked down and realised Louis had pulled the covers up around his shoulders. Right—heat; it was winter, but his body was running hot and it would take a knotting at least for Louis to catch up. He rubbed his legs along Louis's sides, hoping that would help somehow, and Louis flicked his eyes up at Liam, and—gosh, that was a nice image. Liam rocked his hips up a little and Louis's eyes slid closed, mouth still full, drooling around Liam's dick as he worked his arse open with his other hand. Liam didn't need it, but he appreciated it anyway.

It didn't take him long to buck up into Louis's mouth and come. Louis just held his mouth lax around Liam's dick whilst he came down, and swallowed once he felt Liam's dick hardening again. Which definitely helped with the getting hard thing. Then he pulled the covers up above his head and went crawling around the bottom of the bed. Liam could tell where Louis was by the lump moving under the bedclothes. "What are you doing?" he said.

"Hiding!" Louis said loudly, muffled a bit by the duvet. "Obviously, Liam."

"I can see where you are."

"No you can't!"

Liam laughed, outrageously pleased. "No, really, what are you doing?"

There was a pause and then Louis said, grudgingly, "Roll over."

"What?"

"Roll on your stomach, there's a lad," said the Louis-lump.

Liam frowned, but no further answers were forthcoming, so he did as Louis asked.

A kiss on the back of his knee, first, which made Liam giggle—he wasn't very ticklish, but he was ticklish enough for that. He thought he could feel Louis smile before he moved to the other leg, a light bite along the sticky-out bone on the outside of Liam's ankle. "You're so strong," he said, before moving his lips up the back of Liam's calf. "Look at you." Liam rutted down into the bed and spread his legs wider, but Louis didn't take the hint. "Gorgeous," he said. He left a line of bites up the back of Liam's hamstring. "And you smell so good. Thought I was gonna die when you opened the door."

"Glad you didn't," Liam said, not sure what to do with a sincere Louis, especially one who was running his tongue along the crease between Liam's thigh and his arse cheek. 

"Of course you are." Louis's chest settled on the back of Liam's thighs. Liam still didn't know why he was under the covers. "Are you ready?" His voice had dropped lower than Liam had ever heard it. 

"Yes." Liam tried to spread his legs apart again, though it was harder with Louis's weight on them.

Louis let out a low groan, almost a growl, that Liam felt all over. Then there was cold air on his arse again—the covers lifting up—and Louis was settling with his knees outside Liam's thighs. Liam wasn't sure how that would work until Louis pulled up on his hips and Liam felt his dick pressing between his arse cheeks and further in, filling him up with one long, drawn-out, glorious thrust.

Liam whined and his back bowed without his conscious input. One of Louis's hands had his shoulder pinned to the bed. "There's a good boy," Louis said in that throaty voice, and Liam wanted to protest but the words were all pushed out of him by Louis's dick. He just whined again and tried to push back into it, get a bit of a rhythm going so his cock could rub on the sheets.

Louis set up an undulating rhythm that Liam felt down to his toes. Maybe literally: alpha pheromones were doing their thing now, Louis's body catching up with Liam's, and he was getting those funny tingly happy shivers that he always got when an alpha he liked was turned on and touching him. More, because it was heat, and both their bodies were on overdrive for it, ready for a good hard fuck. Liam tried to say something again, and got out a few garbled syllables before he had to squeeze his eyes shut and squeeze down on the thickness filling him up. "It's okay," Louis said. Liam didn't know he was bending down until he felt a soft kiss right in the centre of the nape of his neck. "I'll take care of you."

Liam kind of wanted crazy Louis back, but on the other hand, something in him was responding to that. A protective alpha, ready to handle everything. Already handling so much, holding him open where he ached to be open, pressure where he wanted pressure, sensations he wasn't used to—the drag of Louis's dick against the inside of his arse cheeks, his small hot palm on Liam's shoulder, the echo of the kiss that Liam could still feel as if Louis had never moved his lips at all.

He was going to come just from the pressure of the curve of Louis's dick. He should probably warn Louis or something. "I'm...come," he forced out through the rippling rhythm of Louis inside him. 

Louis pulled out and Liam couldn't help the whine he made.

"I can't knot you like that," Louis said, distractedly. "That's what you want, right?"

Oh. Liam groaned out low and tilted his arse up. Louis's knees slid between his and Louis grabbed his hips, hands sliding a bit in the sweat there, and then he pushed his dick back in, and— _God_ , Liam hadn't thought he could get deeper but he _could_ , with his hips pressed flush against Liam's and Liam's legs spread. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Liam reached down for his dick, dripping fucking wet, and said, "Knot me," in a growl.

Louis's chest was pressed against Liam's back suddenly, but Liam was strong enough to support Louis's weight. Even when Louis grabbed Liam around the chest and held him close. Even when Louis pushed in deeper still and Liam felt his knot inflating, filling him up, and Liam didn't have to keep stroking himself any more because he was clenching and coming just from that, all the way up his chest. Probably on Louis's arms too, though Louis didn't let him go.

Liam wasn't used to the pressure of a knot any more, and he wriggled his hips a bit, settling into it. Louis made a hurt noise and bit Liam's shoulder. Liam was going to be covered with bruises and bite marks by the end, probably, but he'd always thought that was a sign of a heat well-spent.

"Shit," Louis said, "you feel so good, baby." He rubbed his smooth cheek against Liam's shoulder—hey, he'd shaved, Liam hadn't noticed till now—and snuffled behind Liam's ear.

"Er, you too," Liam said.

Louis clung to him and muttered endearments for a few more minutes, until he seemed to rouse enough to be coherent again. He reached one of his hands down and gave Liam's soft cock a friendly little pat. "Done for the moment?" he said.

"Mmm, yeah," Liam said.

Louis maneuvered them, then, so Liam wasn't holding up his weight any more—it wasn't hard, but he didn't mind just lying down on their sides, either. Then Louis pulled Liam back into his chest so Liam let himself lean back, even though it could hardly be comfortable for Louis—Liam had two stone on him at least—and let Louis sniff his neck.

"I can't imagine I smell very good right now," Liam said. He was feeling good, but he was sweaty and covered in come and slick.

But Louis just said, "Mmm," in a tone of mild disagreement. "You smell satisfied. Just the way you always should."

* * *

Late in the evening two days after Liam's heat was finished, he heard Niall come home. But he didn't see him till the next morning, when he got out of the shower to find him up and making breakfast.

"Did we have a good time?" Niall said in a strange American accent when Liam dropped into one of the chairs. He patted Liam's shoulders, then reached around him for a hug. Niall was always touchy-feely after his heats—Liam knew he was in for an afternoon of telly watching and cuddling sometime in the next couple of days. 

"We did," Liam said. "How about you?"

"Oh, the usual," Niall said brightly.

"Mind-blowing, then?"

"You know it."

After his heats was also the only time period Niall sounded that way about Bressie: not just fond, but proud and possessive. Liam was never sure if he felt that way all the time and just hid it, or if a few days of good knotting could induce it. Or rather, after his last few days, he was sure they _could_ induce it; the question was whether it did for Niall.

"How's Brez?" Liam asked.

"Almost didn't make it over from Ireland in time," Niall said. "Filming auditions and all."

"Oh no!"

"Well, he made it, though. He's back to Ireland in January for the show, though."

"That's tough, when he's gone so much for filming."

"Yeah." Niall fiddled with something on one of the burners. "I'll just take some holiday so I can see him. It's weird to see the rest of the LIC and not him, y'know?"

"Yeah," Liam said. "Did you think about what you'd do, if I'd up and married Harry?"

"Move in with the two o' you fuckers, obviously," Niall said with a grin. "You're never getting rid of me."

Liam smiled. "I know. But you wouldn't have, like, moved in with Bressie?"

Niall bit his lip and turned back to the stove. Maybe not, then. Liam wanted to know, but he felt abruptly guilty for asking when Niall didn't have his usual armour up. "Maybe," Niall said finally. "But we like things the way they are now, really. Where we've got our own spaces if we want 'em. Y'know?"

"Yeah," Liam said, though he didn't.

"Are you planning on moving in with the young lad, then?" Niall said. "Leaving all of this splendor behind?" He gestured to the kitchen with a wooden spoon and a goofy smile. Liam thought it was all right, then, that he had asked. 

"He's older than both of us," Liam said.

"Oh, sugar daddy, then. Well, you should definitely leave me for that."

"I'm not going to move in with him any time soon. It's still new. We've only been together, like, a month, right?"

"Maybe he'll propose in a month," Niall said with a wicked grin.

"Oh stop that!" Liam said, as Niall guffawed. "I'm not like—what's her name, from that show you made me watch—"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennett?" Niall said, striking some kind of pose that Liam thought was supposed to mimic a young Edwardian maiden. "Pride and Prejudice?"

"Yeah, that one," Liam said. "I'm not going to be fending off marriage proposals left and right. I hope."

"Better you than me, mate," Niall said. "Over easy?"

"Yes, please," Liam said, watching Niall crack the eggs into the pan. "Thanks."

"Anything for my brother from another mother," Niall said, flipping back into his American accent. Liam felt lucky most of the time, but it was especially acute this morning.

* * *

* * *

Amber was very pretty. Harry was starting to wonder if Fortnam & Chapel screened for appearance. Or maybe he was a horribly shallow person and something about his answers screamed "only the hot ones."

She wasn't just hot, though. Smart, too; she worked in advertising and Harry knew enough people in similar positions to be able to tell she was good at her job. She was obviously trying to be charming, but it was a first date and Harry couldn't hold it against her—and it was obvious she'd be charming without that, too. 

"Do you have any siblings?" Harry asked her.

"An older brother and an older sister, you?"

"Yeah, an older sister, Gemma."

She grinned at him. "Very British names. I didn't know any Harrys or Gemmas until I moved here."

Harry nodded. "I think it's because Harry sounds like, um, hairy? To you."

"Yeah. I bet it's getting more popular now, with Harry Potter."

"Maybe," Harry said. "Do you think that works for other names? Are there a bunch of Hagrids running around Los Angeles?"

"Dracos, maybe," Amber said.

"Little blond monsters."

"Nominative determinism," she said.

Harry blinked. "What?" It brought his attention in more than it had been—she was nice, but maybe a little...bland. Maybe Nick had been right, when he said Harry liked unusual people. But had he noticed they were unusual at first? You couldn't always tell with first impressions.

"Oh, it's like, when your name lines up with what you do? Like somebody named Mr. House who's a real estate agent."

"Maybe it goes the other way with baby names," Harry said. "Like would you name your kid Draco if you thought he was going to be kind and considerate?"

Amber raised her eyebrows. "Who thinks their kid's gonna be mean and selfish?"

"Not me," Harry said. "It was just a theory."

"Maybe," Amber said. She took a sip of her drink. "Are you from London, then?"

Harry shook his head. "I grew up near Manchester. My sister and I both live here in London now, but our mum's still up north. Where did you grow up?" 

"Chicago." Amber smiled. "I thought that was a big city until I moved here."

Harry said, "You should see Tokyo. That's the biggest place I've ever been, I think."

"I have a friend who grew up there! She always laughs when I say the Tube is crowded."

"I can't imagine growing up in a city that big," Harry said. He'd loved Tokyo, how busy it was, how bright. 

"How small was your hometown?"

"Like 5,000 people," Harry said.

Amber looked startled. "Wow, that's tiny."

"Pretty small, yeah. London was an adjustment, but I love it now."

She smiled at him. "Did you, like, go fishing in the creek and tree-climbing and all that country stuff?"

"A little," Harry said. "Um, mostly just, like, played video games and stuff though. What was that like growing up in the city?"

"I mean, it probably wasn't all that different?" she said. "There were more, like, museums and stuff, but we didn't do that a lot. Mostly we just hung out at each other's houses or the playground."

"It wasn't scary? Your parents weren't worried about your safety?"

She tilted her head at him, considering. "Are you worried about yours right now?"

"No," Harry said, confused.

She shrugged. "You get used to it."

"I guess."

She took another sip of her drink. "Do you want to move back there, then? When you have a family?"

"I dunno. I used to think I wanted to but—it's not as much fun as an adult, you know?" Harry shrugged. "And I like it here, my friends and my jobs are here, so—yeah. I dunno."

The thought distracted him for a while. He'd always assumed he'd be moving home, or somewhere like it, when he had kids. But it was true—he had a hard time imagining himself living anywhere but London if he continued to work. That house in the country—in his head, he was home in it all the time, and obviously that wouldn't be true. 

He and Amber walked out of the bar together, and Amber turned down his offer of a ride home, saying she was just a short walk away. Harry honestly hadn't remembered where her flat was, though he knew it was in this neighbourhood. 

"I'll call you later, set something up, maybe next week?" Harry said.

She tilted her head at him. "Really?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah?"

"Cause you're great," she said, "but there didn't seem to be much of, like, a spark. If you wanna hang out as friends we could do that, though."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "We could—maybe?"

"Sure," she said, and from her smile, Harry thought he probably wouldn't see her again. "Thanks for the drinks and stuff."

"Thanks for the chat," he said. "It was fun."

"See you around, then, Harry," she said, waving, and set off into the night.

* * *

* * *

Harry didn't seem all that concerned about the state of Louis's living room. He'd had more time to get used to it than Liam had, though. Or maybe he just didn't care as much—but Liam remembered his home being neat, back when he was over there a lot. Louis's was...not. Louis had moved a stack of papers from an armchair so Harry could sit down like that was a normal thing to do.

Harry's hair was longer than it had been when they were dating—he was going to donate it, he'd said, but there was a minimum length, and Liam had gathered that Harry was not the buzz-cut type, so it had to be even longer than that. Liam had seen him since the breakup, but not for any amount of time, so this was his first chance to try to, like, study him. Out of the corner of his eye, because he didn't want to seem like a weirdo.

"Are you more nervous or more excited?" Harry said.

"Excited, I think," Liam said.

"You're going to be nervous."

"I'm already nervous," Liam said. "Just excited even more than that."

Harry leaned forward earnestly. "Well, make Louis distract you before the show."

"A task for which I'm uniquely suited," Louis said. 

"You took voice lessons for a while, right?" Harry said.

Liam nodded. 

"So you know the, like, no dairy or caffeine stuff? All the food and drink rules?"

"Yeah, got it."

"Course you do," Harry said. Jeez, Liam had forgotten how good he looked when he smiled. Not that he still wanted to, you know. He looked over at Louis, who was leaning forward too, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and yeah, he was the only person in this room Liam wanted to kiss. 

"What are your plans for the show?" Harry said.

"Got a band and stuff."

"No a capella, then?"

Liam laughed. "No, I'm not that brave. Um—a band, you might know some of the people in it, keep an eye out."

Harry nodded.

"And I'm just gonna...sing some stuff? The songs we've been writing," he nodded at Louis, "and some covers because that's not much time."

"Solid plan," Harry said. "What else do you need to know from me? It's probably not that much different from the shows you've been doing lately, really, except the audience is going to listen better since they're there to see you, not somebody performing later."

Liam hesitated. "Er. That's about all, really."

"Okay." Harry blinked. "Um, should we order supper then, or—"

Louis reached over and tweaked Liam's earlobe. Not the usual, but the nipple might've been awkward. Liam ducked away from him and grabbed his hand. "You're coming to the show, right?" 

Harry looked surprised. "Oh. I mean. If you want me to? I'd love to see it."

"Yes," Liam said. Liam wrestled Louis's hand around so they were proper holding hands. Harry was still making eye contact with Liam, but with an intensely innocent expression that said he really wanted to be laughing at them. "Absolutely. I'd love to have you there."

"Great!" Harry said.

"Curry, then?" Liam said. "We should probably feed this one before he gets too stroppy."

"Might need to put him down for a nap," Harry agreed.

Louis made a noise of betrayal, but Liam noticed he didn't let go of his hand.

"I'll get the menus," Harry said, heading for the kitchen.

Louis gave Liam a thumbs-up with his free hand. Liam grinned back. He didn't like having burned bridges, but he'd needed some time apart, and he was glad it hadn't permanently hurt his friendship with Harry. Especially if he was going to be dating Harry's best friend for a long time, and right now, that was definitely his plan.

* * *

* * *

Harry had never been to the club where Liam worked before. Or, at least, not properly inside the actual performance area—he'd picked Liam up there, obviously, and hung around with him backstage a couple of times, once Liam's coworkers had figured out who he was dating. He thought it was fitting that his first time in the audience, he was there to see Liam perform.

He didn't get there too early, not wanting to make a fuss; he also didn't want to take up a prime spot near the stage. He was here to be supportive, but he wasn't truly that close to Liam, even if he'd helped make this happen, and he wanted the close spots to go to Liam's family and friends, plus all the new fans he should be gaining after tonight. So he came in late and hid in the back near the bar, beanie pulled down. Louis wasn't visible anywhere—surely backstage helping Liam get ready—and Niall probably was too; Harry didn't see his blond shock of hair anywhere. He did spot Liam's mum and dad, who must have come down for the occasion, and made sure he wasn't in their line of sight—he didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable.

He'd timed things about right, and so he only had to wait about five minutes after buying a beer for the lights to dim and Liam to come out on stage, grin spread on his face so wide his eyes were just happy crinkles. Niall came out and took up the guitar—oh, of course!—and a drummer Harry didn't know sat herself down at the kit at the back of the stage.

Liam's patter wasn't bad. A little awkward, but less than Harry would have expected for such a green performer. He looked more comfortable on stage than Harry had ever seen him, like he knew exactly what he was doing and loved it. The impression only increased when he actually started singing: Harry felt his eyebrows climb for his hairline as he realised exactly how much Liam had been holding back when he'd sung in Harry's living room or tried melodies in the studio.

"Not bad, this," Nick said in Harry's ear.

Harry whipped his head around. "Hey!" he said quietly, trying not to disturb anyone near them. It wouldn't be on to disrupt Liam's first solo show, after all. "What are you doing here?"

"Future of music right here, innit?" Nick said. "How could I miss it?"

"He's really great," Harry said, still leaning towards Nick, but with his eyes back on the stage.

"Yeah," Nick said. "How are you doing?"

"Good." Harry chewed on a fingernail, not really biting through it; he wished he'd brought gum. "Happy for him."

"Good," Nick said.

Harry hadn't heard this song before—it must have been one of the ones he and Louis put together on their own. About running away together—weird to hear it, when that had been Harry's plan for so long, and when he was starting to think it wasn't what he wanted at all.

He wolf-whistled from the back when Liam finished the song, loudly enough that the people in front of him whipped around to see what was going on. Liam spotted him then and gave a quick smile in Harry's direction, which was just the right amount of acknowledgment, he thought. Louis was giving him a mock glare from his prime position next to the stage, as though he needed to worry. Liam had already made his decision, after all.

Liam's second song started with a slick guitar riff that Harry wished he'd come up with. And oh—it was the song Liam and Louis had been writing in his living room, with all the song titles. Liam was playing the crowd, but there were parts of the song Harry could tell he was singing to Louis. The crowd were into it anyway, though, the dull buzz of conversation dampened as people started paying attention to the song. 

"This is good too," Nick said in Harry's ear, sounding surprised. It tickled a bit, with how it moved Harry's hair against his skin.

"Of course it is," Harry said. "Some dodgy rhymes, though."

"I think you're the only one who cares."

True enough. Nick joined him in wolf-whistling Liam after the song, and Liam blushed a little. 

"I've got, like, a group I should get back to," Nick said. "Are you going to the afterparty?"

Harry turned to look at him. "Yeah. Are you?"

"See you there." Nick clapped him on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. He liked having Nick there, but it gave him an opportunity to listen to Liam, how good he was, and feel a little bit of pride.

* * *

"Great show!" Harry said.

Liam turned and smiled at Harry, half going in for a hug and then stopping himself. Harry took over for him, doing what he thought of as a Man Hug, shoulders leaned together but bodies far apart. Maybe Liam would let him get back to normal hugs sometime; it wasn't like Harry was looking to steal him back from Louis. "Thanks," Liam said into his hair, before standing up straight again. Harry let him go.

"Think you've got a future as a songwriter," Harry said to Louis.

"Don't be jealous," Louis said. "You can share me."

"Erm." Liam eyebrows went up.

"I'll take any part you want to give me," Harry said, smirking.

Louis gave him a sharp little grin. If Harry didn't know him so well, he might be intimidated. "That's enough out of you."

"The crowd loved you," Harry said.

Liam nodded, big dips of his head. "Got some video to put up online," he said. 

"That's good!" Harry said. "Cool." Simultaneously awkward and completely not awkward, this conversation. One day things would smooth out; it was already better than it had been. "Gonna go get a drink, I think."

"Yeah, cheers," Liam said. Louis lifted his eyebrows.

Harry managed not to wave as he walked off, though it had that kind of air. He stopped to take photos with a couple of people who asked: he wouldn't refuse anyone at Liam's party, since he wanted them all to feel positive about the experience. Once he was done, he headed for the bar, scanning the crowd for people he knew as he went; some of the LIC toasting Niall, various people he knew from the industry, and Nick standing—oh, with his arm around a boy's shoulders, leaning in to say something in his ear very intimately. Huh. That was new. They both laughed as Harry watched. 

He'd had a date a while back, Harry remembered, but he hadn't heard anything since then. Nick wouldn't have kept it a secret, would he? 

Anyway. Harry picked up a beer and wandered over to the LIC; he hadn't seen Niall in a while. "Hey there, Fancy Fingers," he said, catching Niall on the edge of the crowd.

Niall wiggled his fingers at Harry and smiled. "Hey yourself," he said. "How you been keeping?"

"Oh, fine," Harry said. "Hey, do you want to be my guitar player on the road?"

"Don't you already have a band?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "but I like to steal people. Come with me. You don't need these folks." He twirled his finger around at the room.

"I forgot how weird you are." Niall smiled as he said it, to soften it, Harry thought.

"All the more reason to come on the road with me. Experience my weirdness every day." When it didn't look like Niall was going to bite, he added, "Or at least invite me to one of your barbecues again. I've been dreaming about your ribs."

"Also weird," Niall said. 

"I meant the beef." Hmm, that also sounded like innuendo, once it was out of his mouth.

Niall grinned at him. "Yeah, I got it." He leaned into Harry's space a bit and Harry had a flash of Nick and his boy before, still not over the strangeness of it. "Some fuckin' good songs, though, yeah?"

"Yes, great music. He's gonna be so big. You'll be able to get a bigger flat, maybe with your own balcony to grill on."

Niall nodded. "We can get a giant place and I'll live in the closet since that's how much of the rent I'll contribute. That's assuming he doesn't shack up with Louis." His eyes widened a bit when he was done—like he was remembering how Liam and Harry knew each other.

"You can come live in my closet instead," Harry offered.

Niall almost spit out the sip of beer he'd just taken. Bressie, seemingly without paying attention, reached over and clapped Niall on the back, then gave him a quick neck rub before going back to his conversation.

"Sorry," Harry said. "Not trying to be weird." He was feeling off-kilter, though. Weirdly jealous of people in relationships. It usually didn't hit him this hard. "So, what's going on with you? Are you going to try to be a popstar too?"

"No," Niall said. "I like the radio."

"I still haven't been invited to one of your open mic nights, by the way."

"Well, I lost my main vocalist," Niall said. "So I don't know how often I'll do 'em any more."

"If it makes you happy, you should."

Niall smiled at him. "We'll see."

Bressie's arm came up around Niall's shoulders then, drawing him bodily back into whatever conversation the LIC was having. Niall waved at Harry as he went.

Harry scanned the crowd, looking for somebody else he knew. He didn't see anybody at first glance, so he went in search of one of the A&R folks he'd spotted earlier. He wasn't exactly avoiding the part of the room where Nick and his boy were, he just...didn't like feeling jealous when he thought of Nick, of Nick with his arm around someone. Nick should be happy. Harry shouldn't be jealous; that was wrong, to feel that way about good news for a friend.

He just, he knew what that felt like, to have Nick's arm around his shoulders, and he was sad to be alone. Silly, but true. So if he found someone on the other side of the room—

There was something odd about that thought, though. Harry poked at it, prodded, as he worked through the crowd. What was weird?

Ah, right. He wasn't jealous of Nick for being in a relationship; he was jealous of the boy with Nick, for having Nick's arm around him, Nick talking into his ear. On the one hand that seemed perfectly sensible—he liked Nick, he liked that Nick paid attention to him. And that was certainly a position he'd been in before. But that didn't at all explain the hot ball of combined anger and shame that had taken up residence in his stomach, like he shouldn't want that, but like he was incandescent that someone else had it.

And it was all running through his head suddenly—every time they'd flirted and Harry had passed it off as fun, or pleasing Nick, or liking to be liked, or something else. Every confessional phone call, every time they'd flopped on the sofa not caring whose limbs were where... And he didn't know how long it had been like this. He didn't think it was the whole time but, if he was honest, he also didn't think it was new.

Shit.

* * *

* * *

Harry took a deep breath.

This was going to be weird. It was going to be weird if it worked, and make things even fucking weirder if it didn't. Harry had to be prepared for either outcome. 

He dripped some lube onto his fingers, then closed his eyes and slid his hand down to wrap around his cock. It was already filling up in that way that just kind of made him aware that it was there. 

He imagined it was Nick's hand. Nick's long clever fingers, wrapping around him—yep, that was a go.

He built the fantasy outward: Nick's arm and then his shoulder and chest, leaning to the side, over Harry's hip. The top of his head as he watched himself stroke Harry; the weight of Nick's legs on his own. All right so far. It wasn't that hard to picture, and Harry had seen Nick mostly nude before, although he hadn't paid much attention at the time.

Everything was okay so far, but then, Harry thought, it would be—he'd been with enough omega men that nothing so far was outside of his experience.

He held himself more loosely and thought about Nick looking up at him, instead of at his hand. Nick's face as he watched Harry, naked and turned on. That was more difficult. He didn't usually sleep with his friends, and never with somebody he was as close to as he was to Nick; it was strange to think of Nick seeing him like that. Bare. But he thought of Nick's indulgent face, the one he got when Harry did something ridiculous, watching him while his hand was— And there was something compelling about that. Nick looking at him, like, fondly, while his hand worked Harry over. Harry gripped tighter and stroked and it was good, yeah. Thinking about Nick watching him get off.

Running his fingers through Nick's quiff. Nick leaning into Harry's hand, biting one of his nipples. Harry tweaked it, just imagining. Touching him—he'd be good at it, Nick, Harry had no doubt about that. 

And leaning up to kiss Harry. That big mouth, that intensity. Harry bit his lip and flexed his hips up into his hand. That was— That was— That took his breath away, to be honest. Thinking about kissing him. 

Maybe he could push Nick over so he could get his hands on Nick's cock. Kiss him, run his mouth down his neck, across his chest. Suck him off or just wank him, watching Nick watch him. Mouth parted, hair messy from Harry's fingers. Telling Harry he could do what he wanted. Letting Harry slide his fingers lower, and in, between those long legs. Open Nick up for his cock. Sink into him—Nick gone nonverbal and panting, cock thick and hard in Harry's hand as Harry got them both off at the same time.

Or he could let Nick do what he wanted to Harry. Nick marking him up—he had good sharp teeth for that, Harry thought. He'd leave some good bruises. He pinched the skin of his hip enough to twinge, thinking about it. One hand working his cock, the other on his balls, stroking maddeningly across the base of his cock where the knot would be. Nick saying, "Hey, popstar, are you gonna come for me?" Harry's hand was flying now, toes curling up, the other arm thrown across his face. "Come for me, wanna see you." Harry bit hard into his biceps and came, slicking up his hand and his belly.

He opened his eyes and panted.

He thought he could call that a rousing success. The only problem was that Nick wasn't there to cuddle with him after. But he could fix that. 

If Nick wanted him. If Nick wanted the same kinds of things Harry wanted, because he still wanted a family, even if it would be harder. He thought he could deal with the press if it meant Nick's sleepy smile every morning. He'd had feelings about that smile for a while. Maybe they could build a life in London; Harry was coming around to that. Maybe, if Nick wanted, they could figure it out together.

* * *

* * *

Louis slept even later than Liam did, so Liam had a chance to get up and make tea and bring it back to bed before Louis was awake. Tea always woke him, though, and then Liam had a sleepy boyfriend who kissed him hello (on the cheek—Liam wasn't a fan of morning breath) and drank half a mug of tea in one long gulp. "Morning," he croaked once it was down.

"Morning," Liam said. "Do I want to know why there's a towel shaped like an elephant in the kitchen?"

"Two towels." He burrowed under the covers and into Liam's side—this had long since become a pattern. "I was practicing."

"Why?"

"Going home to Donny at the weekend. Wanted to surprise Daisy and Phoebe."

"With origami elephants?" Liam said.

Louis poked Liam's nipple. "Obviously."

"Okay." Liam rubbed his fingers through Louis's hair.

"What're you doing whilst I'm gone?"

"Three days, I dunno," Liam said. "It'll be hard to live without you." Louis pinched his side; Liam was long past reacting to that, though. "Think I'm going to a rugby match with Niall. Says he can't go with Brez any more."

Louis's head came up. "Did they break up? Do I need to kick Bressie's arse?" He frowned. "Hire people to kick Bressie's arse?"

"No, no! Oh, er." Liam tried not to blush. "He tends to, uh. Sit on Brez's lap whilst they watch the games. So it's weird to watch in public and not...you know. Don't tell him I told you. Or Brez either."

"Huh," Louis said reflectively. "That sounds fun."

"How would you see the telly, though?" Liam said. He tried not to point out that Louis was shorter than him, but sometimes it was too relevant to ignore.

Louis frowned at him. "I meant I could sit on your lap. But if you're not into that—"

"Oh! No, no. Yeah. I'd be, yes. I'd be into that," Liam said.

Louis did the smile that made his eyes crinkle, and Liam couldn't help smiling back. "Well, I think I know how we'll be celebrating my return then," Louis said. He leaned forward for a kiss, but Liam got his hand up in time. "Morning breath," Liam said, so Louis kissed his palm. With tongue. It was pretty disgusting, but Liam laughed.

Louis sighed at him and slumped out of the bed and off to the bathroom. Hey, it wasn't Liam's fault he had standards.

Liam sank down into the bedding. It was warm where Louis had been laying. And Louis would be back soon, and warm, and Liam would get his real good morning kiss.

It was amazing, really, how well things had turned out for him.

* * *

* * *

For the first time in years, Harry hesitated before he knocked on Nick's door.

Nick opened up almost right away, keeping Pig back with his foot as she tried to jump up on Harry. 

"Evening," Harry said.

"Come in before the dog has an 'eart attack."

Harry slipped in past Nick's body, aware of it in a way he'd never been before. It didn't feel bad, though, just a bit scary. "Brought you something," he said, holding out the wine.

"You know a way to a man's heart." 

Harry leaned down to let Pig sniff his hands. Jesus, had they always flirted this much? 

"Shall I open it?"

"If you like," Harry said. "You haven't started on anything else yet?"

"Are you planning to get me drunk and have your way with me, is that it?" Nick laughed as he took the bottle into the kitchen. Maybe they always _had_ flirted this much.

"I don't need to get you drunk for that," Harry said experimentally, and Nick laughed again. A drawer slid shut in the kitchen, and then there was the sound of glass ringing against the counter as he opened the bottle. Harry came to lean in the door jamb and watch Nick as he finished getting the cork out and then poured the wine into two juice glasses. Harry tsked at him. "Still no stemware?" 

"We ain't fancy here, chez Grimshaw," Nick said. He handed one glass over to Harry in his long, long fingers, and Harry took it and let their fingers brush. Nick didn't seem to notice anything.

"Cheers." Harry took an experimental sip.

"Come on, I've queued up Strictly."

"Aiding the competition," Harry said, shaking his head, as he took a seat at his usual end of the sofa. X Factor hadn't been on the air in two years, and Nick hadn't even been on it for the last season, but Harry wouldn't let Nick forget about it. Nick dropped himself onto the other end and stretched his legs out to Harry, like always.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off him this time, though. He waited through the whole first half to see if it would go away. It didn't. He hadn't really thought it would.

When they got to one of the boring post-dance interview bits, Harry looked over at Nick and said, as casually as he could, "How's the boy, then?"

"What boy?" Nick said.

"You asked me about making pasta. For a date?"

Nick nodded. "Oh, right," he said. "No, that didn't, um. That didn't really work out."

"Ah," Harry said. "Sorry."

Nick waved a hand at him. "Shurrup, we're missing Claudia."

Harry dutifully shut up, but at the next opportune moment, he said, "Remember how you told me if I wanted to try it on, like, with an alpha, I could come to you?"

He wasn't sure what made the difference, but it was like Nick went tense all over. "Yeah." He didn't turn away from the screen.

"'Cause, um," Harry said. "I was thinking."

"I take it back," Nick said, all in a rush.

Harry blinked at him, cold all over, and Nick finally looked at him. His eyes were a little wide.

"Oh," Harry said. "Um. Okay." He hadn't really thought through what he'd do if Nick said no. Some arrogance there, he supposed.

Nick was still talking, though. "I can set you up with somebody," he said. "D'you have a preference, male or female? Like. Suppose male would be a little more familiar to you, but lots of the bits of the women's anatomy are the same too. Or I'm told, I've never seen a female omega."

Rambling. That was weird. Well—no, that was Nick all the time. The edge of desperation, though, was new. 

"Look," Nick said, a little more loudly. "I've changed my mind."

"You said."

"No. About the—stuff," Nick said. "Relationships. I want one."

"Oh," Harry said and started to smile.

Nick seemed to relax a bit at that. "It's been bloody awful listening to you whinge about it, by the way. You've got other friends for that."

"I thought you didn't care," Harry said.

"Well, I do." Nick leaned back. "We're great as friends, yeah? So, let's not do the casual sex thing. I like you too much for that."

Harry considered. He wanted to ask—but it wasn't fair to make Nick put himself out there first, Harry thought. "You've made some assumptions there, Nicholas."

Nick narrowed his eyes. "Have I."

The music for the next couple started up. Nick scrambled for the remote and paused it. Good sign, that.

"That casual sex was all I wanted from you, basically," Harry said. "Sorry. I'm all in if you want me. Full package." Nick's eyes dropped. "No dirty jokes, I'm being romantic here!"

"Dirty jokes are romance for you," Nick said. "That's—really?"

Harry nodded. "I wouldn't jerk you around. I mean, um. I haven't...done this before, like, with an alpha. So I might hate it, and I don't want to, like, downplay that. But I don't think so."

"So you're offering to date me, but only if I blow your mind at sex?" Nick said.

"That seems a little crass."

"Well, don't worry. I'm very mind-blowy."

Harry beamed at him, triumphant. "That's not a word," he added on principle. 

Nick scooted closer. "Just so we're clear, though," he said, "that was a request for sex. Like, soon."

"We can finish Strictly first if you want," Harry said, biting on his lip in a way that he knew looked sexy.

Nick brought his other hand up to Harry's jaw in reply. Harry kneed his way across the sofa till he was next to Nick. "Yeah?" he said.

Nick leaned forward, nudged Harry's nose with his own to make Harry laugh, and then kissed his smile.

Right away it was different, if only a little. Mouths were mouths and tongues were tongues but this close up to Nick his pheromones were hitting Harry right in the back of the throat; there was no way he could pretend this was an omega, even if he wanted to. His skin was a little rougher, his mouth bigger, but none of that was as important as that tickle that said alpha.

Of course, even that was less important than the fact that it was kissing, and bodies, and Nick. Harry kissed him back and started to get hard, which made him grin. Yes. Game on.

"You're very pleased with yourself," Nick said, kissing his cheek.

"I'm very pleased with you," Harry said.

Nick nipped his way back over to Harry's mouth, which was a pleasant enough distraction as he got one arm around Harry's middle, palm resting halfway onto the opposite hip. He was huge, really; Harry wasn't used to that at all. He hadn't been able to fully picture it when he was trying. It was good, though.

Harry rested his hands on Nick's thighs so he could lean forward himself, pushing Nick back into the cushions. That felt more familiar, except for how it was Nick whose tongue was in Harry's mouth, and then Nick's mouth which was working its way down the side of Harry's face and onto his neck. He stopped for a bit to bite slowly in. It wasn't enough to leave a mark, but Harry could feel Nick's teeth pressed up against his skin, sharp and perfect. By the time Nick let up, one of his hands was tangled in Harry's loose hair and the other was intertwined with Harry's, pressed up against the sofa. "How are you doing," Nick said, a bit breathlessly, moving down to nip at his collarbone. "Are you hard?"

Harry groaned. "Well, now I am," he said, equally breathless, and Nick grinned and pulled him forward till he was sprawled in Nick's lap. Nick's face looked amazing, slack-mouthed and ruddy, his hair mussed. Harry spread his knees so he could push forward, dick to dick, and Nick moaned and pulled Harry into another kiss. They were pressed together most of the way up, now, and Nick's scent was getting stronger the more turned on he got. It was still different from what Harry was used to, but his body seemed to be responding even if his nose couldn't make up its mind, dick swelling enough to make his jeans uncomfortable.

Harry leaned back and stripped off his shirt, then went for Nick's. Nick helped, raising his arms so Harry could pull the thing right off, then tugging Harry back into him with an arm across his back when he'd got free. Skin-to-skin was pheromones again, making Harry feel warm and buzzy. "You're all...freckly," Harry said, fingering the top of Nick's shoulder. "I didn't know."

"Ugh, yes," Nick said, in a tone that told Harry he hated them. 

Harry kissed them. They were beautiful. He slid his fingers under the waistband of Nick's jeans and pulled it forward, working the button through the buttonhole. Nick's dick was a solid presence against the backs of his fingers, still caught by the fabric but hard.

"Slow down, sailor," Nick said on a laugh. 

Harry pouted at him. "But you're wearing too many clothes."

"Bedroom," Nick said decisively. "Are you—um. Assuming my sexual skills are up to your elite standards, do you want to stay the night?"

Harry nodded slowly. Nick wouldn't've asked if he didn't want him to, he thought.

"Then I'm gonna let the dog out first," he said. "You can wait in the bedroom, if you want."

Harry pressed a kiss to his mouth then stood up. Nick's eyes had closed even for that, and Harry felt all tender towards him. He got himself to the bedroom and got naked, pushed the duvet down and laid against the pillows on the guest side of the bed—he hadn't slept in Nick's bed as much as some of Nick's other friends, but he was familiar enough that he knew which side was Nick's. He stroked his cock idly, keeping his arousal level up while Nick did whatever he needed to do.

Nick paused in the doorway to look at Harry, eyes hot on his body, the casual lean against the door jamb doing funny things to Harry's middle. Finally he shook his head. "Don't suppose I can take a picture of that," he said, and closed the door behind him.

"Probably shouldn't," Harry said. "You might get hacked, and I only want you to see me like this."

Nick stopped at the edge of the bed and stared at him. "You can't just say things like that. My poor heart can't take it."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry. I'm just trying to make you believe I'm serious."

"I believe you," Nick said. "I wouldn't dare do otherwise." 

"Good." Harry glared at Nick's still fabric-covered crotch and waved his hand in the universal 'get going' gesture.

Nick laughed. "I'm sorry my clothing offends you," he said. At least he was wearing his loose, ratty at-home jeans and not his skinnies, because he undid the fly and more or less kicked them off, and then he was sliding the waistband of his boxer briefs over his cock and dropping those to the floor too. 

Harry grunted and squeezed his cock when he got to look at Nick truly naked, and Nick's dick twitched at the noise like it was waving hello. "Your willy's saying hi," Harry said, and the appendage in question twitched again.

Nick was staring at him with—Harry could only call it disgusted wonder. "If your fans could only see you now," Nick said and slid into bed. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up with an elbow, staring at Harry, and Harry rolled to face him and reached out to run his hand along Nick's side. 

"Hi," Harry said quietly.

Nick reached over to ruffle Harry's hair, letting it fall across his eyes when he was done. "Hullo," Nick said.

"Hi," Harry said again. He thumbed across Nick's nipple and let his hand drift down again. "Everything taken care of?"

"All good," Nick agreed.

"Cool," Harry said. Nick's grin faded into something softer, affectionate, genuine, and Harry slid down and pushed Nick over till he could lie between his legs.

Harry took a deep sniff near the base of Nick's cock, where the pheromones were strongest. He could feel his pulse race when they hit the back of his throat; he still wasn't sure he liked the stronger scent, but every system in his body was sitting up and wagging its tail, that was for sure. He breathed Nick in a few times and then had to stop and fight back a sneeze from so many deep breaths.

Nick started laughing, faintly hysterically.

Harry looked up at him and grinned; it was hard not to laugh when Nick was laughing, he was infectious that way. "What?"

Nick waved his hands around a bit before he managed to calm down enough to talk. "Just," he said, "you looked like you were going to sneeze—"

"I was," Harry said.

"And all I could think was, I waited years for this, and now you're allergic to me?"

Harry guffawed, which he was sure was not at all sexy, but—"You can't be allergic to people!"

"You can!" Nick said. "One of my friends was allergic to her omega's semen! Kept getting these huge red welts when he'd come on her—"

"Well, if my throat swells shut, you'll just have to take me to A&E," Harry said.

Nick giggled the way he only ever did when you'd kept him laughing long enough; Harry loved that sound. "Oh God, what would I tell the nurses?"

"You'll figure something out," Harry said. He leaned in closer to Nick's cock and breathed in through his mouth instead; that was a whole whack of pheromones right where he wanted them, and he moaned out before he put his lips on the side of Nick's cock. This wasn't that different, either, firm hot flesh under his mouth; he drew up and licked the crown. "No anaphylaxis yet."

Nick was staring down at him like Harry had just turned into Beyonce.

Harry flashed a grin and then took him into his mouth properly. Nick's hand was back in his hair almost instantly, cupping the side of his head, and the other thumbed at the corner of his mouth. Those pheromones were all over now, inside his mouth, in every breath he took, lighting him up. He rubbed himself against the bed and sucked, letting Nick's hands tell him where to go. 

Above him, Nick said quietly, "God, Harry." His hips started shifting up, moving his dick in Harry's mouth, and Harry let himself go soft and sloppy. 

It didn't take long for Nick to start moaning faintly in the back of his throat whenever Harry pulled back. That's what Harry had been waiting for; he folded his hands tight together around the base of Nick's prick and squeezed as hard as he could.

"Oh, that's so messy," Nick said. 

Harry took his mouth off him. "I know, I've got one too," he said, a little irritated—he wasn't a complete novice at this, thanks—then ducked back down to swallow him again, and Nick was laughing as he started to come.

Harry swallowed what he could, the taste stronger than he was used to. But with Nick's knot up there was a lot of it, so he let Nick's cock slip out of his mouth and onto his belly. He was still leaking come, more slowly than the initial couple of pulses; Harry'd never got a chance to watch a knotted dick come from this close, and he checked to make sure Nick wasn't watching him (he wasn't, head back with one hand completely covering his eyes) before he got up close and personal with the head of his dick, where a bit of white liquid was still flowing steadily out. It had made a little puddle on Nick's belly and looked in danger of overflowing off his side onto the sheets, though there wasn't enough of it to really get things damp. At least not yet—Harry didn't really know how much Nick was going to come. It could vary a lot with alphas, he'd heard. 

Fuck, there was—a lot of it. It made Harry feel all...squirmy.

In the good way.

He cupped his dick and moved down the bed so he could look at Nick's knot. He'd never been able to see one of those up close, either. He kissed it on its plump centre, above Nick's balls, and Nick made a little noise above him.

"I thought you said you had one," Nick said, his smile clear in his voice.

"I do, but I'm not bendy enough for this." He was starting to feel kind of...warm and cuddly, even though he hadn't got off yet, which he thought was Nick's scent post- (or rather mid-) orgasm. It was nice. He still wanted to get off, though, so he kneeled up and stroked himself a few times. "Did you want to return the favour, or should I just jerk off on you?"

"Get up here," Nick said, gesturing, so Harry crawled up his body for a kiss. Nick wasn't squeamish about the taste, at least, and licked Harry's mouth open until Harry was rutting up against his dick as best he could—the knot made that a bit awkward. Nick rolled them both over and then slid down Harry's body until they were reversed from where they'd been a few minutes before. He finally got his hand on Harry's dick and Harry arched up helplessly—fuck, _fuck_ , he was so ready for this.

Nick shifted a bit so his knot was resting against Harry's shin. He rubbed against Harry as he got down to business, one hand holding Harry's dick upright so he could slide it into his mouth easy as anything. Harry swore at the feel of his mouth, and then again when he felt come dribble out against his shin—why had he never thought of that, knotting up and _then_ getting someone off with his mouth? Definitely on the to-do list, once his brain had stopped dribbling out his ears from the way it felt to have Nick's big, generous mouth around his dick.

Harry wrapped his free leg around Nick's back, holding him close, and Nick pressed one knuckle behind his balls, making stars shoot up his belly. God, it was _so_ good—he looked down at Nick, who lowered his lashes and sucked harder on Harry's cock. Smug about it. Well, he'd thought Harry was impugning his skills earlier, so Harry supposed that was fair; this was great head. But even if had been mediocre Harry thought he would've loved it.

"Uh, I'm close," Harry said, twisting a nipple with one hand, letting the other one grip the sheets.

Nick pulled his mouth off, but Harry didn't mind when those long clever fingers wrapped around his dick and jerked him off until he was shooting up his belly in endless pulses, whole body spasming with it. Nick crawled up and laid down next to Harry as Harry caught his breath, dick still leaving a sticky trail on Harry's hip. "Good distance," Nick said.

"Good skills," Harry said. "Fuck, I think I melted."

Nick kissed his shoulder and then scented his neck in a more intense way than omegas usually did. They had better senses of smell, they didn't need to get right up close and personal with you to get it. 

Harry turned his head so they could snog a bit, and Nick made a kind of "mmmph!" sound like he hadn't been expecting it. He relaxed into it quick, though, slowly going boneless half on top of Harry. Well, boneless except for the boner still poking into Harry's hip. The pun made him smile.

"You wanna stay, then?" Nick said when Harry was done.

Harry nodded.

"Good." Nick threw a possessive arm across Harry's chest and tucked his head into Harry's neck. Harry didn't think he'd fall asleep like that, but he'd take the cuddling as long as he could get it. Maybe he'd have to make Nick knot every time they did this, if it meant he got this much attention.

* * *

Nick was on the very far edge of the bed when Harry woke up, as per usual, but when Harry opened his eyes all the way he realised Nick was already awake and looking at him.

"Morning, creepy," Harry said, then yawned.

Nick smiled a bit. "Morning, bedhead."

"Oh," Harry said, putting his hand up. Yeah, bit of a mess, he could already tell.

Nick scooted closer. "I think I saw an interview once where you said something about being the little spoon?"

"See, creepy," Harry said, but he rolled over and let Nick tuck him into a very nice spoon. His arm bumped the top of Harry's head until Harry lifted up so Nick's biceps was under Harry's neck, arm flung out in front of Harry's face, with the other resting gently in the dip of his waist.

Harry thought Nick would get warm and move away, but he stayed there. Harry basked in it, half-asleep, until that odd point when it felt like the gears in his brain stopped slipping and he was fully awake. He stretched a bit and Nick kissed the back of his head. "Morning," Harry said, again. "This is nice."

"It is," Nick said. "No regrets, then?"

Harry pulled Nick's arm across his belly and squeezed. "Of course not," he said.

"Okay."

"You?"

"Of course not," Nick echoed. Harry knew him well enough to see his smile from the tone of his voice.

"Last night, you said something," Harry said. He paused. "That you'd been, um. Waiting to get me into bed for a while."

"Mmm," Nick said. He kissed the back of Harry's head again. "That wasn't—I mean, I was happy being friends with you, if that's all you wanted."

"But more is okay?"

"More is definitely okay." 

Harry folded his hand into Nick's. "I mean it about a relationship, though," Harry said. "I mean—I want something serious, and like, thinking about kids, and living together, and planning a life, and if that's—"

The arm beneath his head folded up, blocking his mouth. "I know," Nick said, sounding amused. "I've been listening to it for months, you weirdo."

"Oh right," Harry said, muffled by Nick's arm.

"So, yes to all of that," Nick said.

"Kay." Harry tried to roll in Nick's arms, which wasn't easy until Nick figured out what he was doing and helped him. Nick's hair, Harry noticed, wasn't exactly calm either, but Harry magnanimously didn't mention it. He just leaned in for a kiss.

He thought that conveyed his message about as well as anything could.

* * *

* * *

Somehow, Liam never expected to run into Harry when he wasn't with Louis. But there Harry was, two people in front of him in line at the Starbucks round the corner from the venue where Liam was opening, with his hair scraped back into a bun and a long wool coat on, too warm for the early spring heat wave they were having.

Harry didn't see him until they'd both ordered, but he gave Liam a soft smile when Liam came to stand next to him whilst they waited for their drinks. "Afternoon," Liam said.

"What are you up to?" Harry said. "Besides the coffee."

"Getting ready for my gig," Liam said. "So just tea for me."

"Ah." Harry put his hand up as if to run his fingers through his hair, then seemed to realise he had it in a bun. 

"How about you?"

"I've got—there's this new act Simon has, and I helped write them a couple of songs," Harry said. "They wanted me to hear the album and stuff, so I'm meeting them in a bit."

"Nice," Liam said. "That must be fun?"

"Well, since I passed off my mentorship of you—"

"Oh. Um. Sorry."

"Oh—no, no," Harry said. "I'm not, like, mad. But I liked doing that for you, so I thought I could try it with someone else."

"You were very helpful," Liam said.

"Thanks!" Harry smiled enough that his dimples came out. "You don't have to, like, avoid me when you're not with Louis," he said. "I understand—um. I think I understand better now, why it didn't work. And Louis always seems really happy, like."

"Okay," Liam said. "We can try that."

"Good." Harry smiled at him, a little more tentative than before.

"How have you been otherwise?"

"I'm, um," Harry said. "I'm seeing someone." There were the dimples again.

"Great!" Liam said. "Louis said you tried Fortnam & Chapel again? I'm glad it worked out for you a second time."

"I did, but actually—" He looked nervous again, and Liam didn't know why until he'd finished: "I'm seeing Nick," he said, looking hopeful.

"Oh!" Liam said. "Wow."

"Yeah," Harry said, deflating a little.

"I mean—he's really great," Liam said. "I just didn't expect that, but good for you, I think you'll be really good together." He was babbling, but that was better than shocked silence, he thought. It wasn't like he minded, he was just...surprised.

"Thanks." Dimples again.

Liam frowned. "Does Louis know?"

"I asked him not to tell you," Harry said. "I wanted to be the one to say it. Was going to get you over early for that dinner party next week and tell you then. It's still pretty new."

"Well. Congratulations, man," Liam said. "I mean—is that weird to say when you just started dating?"

"I don't mind," Harry said.

The barista called his name, and Harry stepped forward to take his drink, but then made his way back next to Liam. "And I hear you've got another headliner next week?" he said.

Liam nodded. "That wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for you, you know. So, thanks."

"I think you would've made it anyway," Harry said. "You're really good. You're gonna make me look bad, actually. Maybe I shouldn't have helped you."

"Still, though. Thank you. I never thought this would be my life, you know?" This was a weird conversation to be having in a Starbucks. Liam hoped nobody was listening, as it was vaguely embarrassing, but...he just hadn't seen Harry in a while. He missed him, he realised.

"It's mutual," Harry said.

Liam frowned at him. "What?"

"Well, I thought I wanted, like. Something kind of traditional. But then you were making music and doing the same kinds of things I was, and I liked that so much better, and like. It helped me figure out what I really wanted. You know?"

Liam nodded. "Not really, but I trust you, mate."

Harry chuckled. "Okay." He blew on his drink a bit and then took a small sip. "Anyway. How's Niall?" 

"Complaining about all the recording equipment in the flat," Liam said. Harry smiled and took another sip. "He likes it, though. I can tell."

"Good."

The barista called Liam's name and he picked up his drink. Harry was at his shoulder as they walked out. "Which way are you heading?" he said.

"East, you?" Liam said.

"Yep." 

It was different, to walk the streets next to Harry Styles, not as his omega but as his friend and colleague. But it was good, too. It didn't feel so strange, like Liam would never be good enough. Just like they were friends.

It wasn't what he'd pictured when that SUV had pulled up into his parents' driveway in Wolverhampton. But he thought things had worked out for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic starts Harry/Liam but ends Liam/Louis and Harry/Nick. There is no cheating or polyamory for these folks; there's a relationship, it ends, they find new partners.
> 
> Niall dates Bressie (Niall Breslin) throughout, though it's not a large part of the fic. They're in an open relationship.


End file.
